The hotel staff seemed genuine when they said it was Salvador Dali's wife, Gala. Why should they joke about it? It would be a matter of national pride, would it not? So, although at that age, I had no idea about Gala and her history, even I had heard of Salvador Dali.

We had at least an hour before the gig, so I asked the concièrge what room she was in and headed up to see her. After all, she had engaged me in conversation, for whatever reason, so I doubted she'd be bothered by a visit from a 27 year-old rock musician.

The Ritz elevator looked like it could give out any time and sounded like it was about to. I swear it took 10 minutes to go up three floors. I knocked on her door and she answered as if she were waiting for me (or someone else?) and without waiting to be invited in, I just told her where we were appearing in a few hours and said she should come and be sure ask for me in the dressing room. She said she would, and I was already imagining how I'd be telling people about this night for years. I'm writing this 34 years later, Gala is dead, she died only 8 years after the events depicted here. I know know she was born in 1894, Gala was 80 years old when we met.

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