My, there certainly were a lot of things going on this past weekend! Ever since the fancy-schmancy gold-embossed invitations appeared in our mailboxes a few weeks ago, Iıve been preparing myself for what might happen, developing a strategy to capitalize on the good day sunshine fun agenda and still maintain my sanity with regards to my homework. I knew right away it was going to be tough to accomplish such a feat.

Early on I was painfully aware of my musical commitments. Norseman had a little gig down by the riverside on Thursday, the jazz bands had concerts on Friday and Sunday (Did you make one of those? They were great times!!) and I had an early audition on Saturday morning. The weekend was already peppered by a multitude of receptions, brunches, inaugural ceremonies, performances and pyrotechnics as it was; so Presidentıs Ball, Riverboat and Wellstock were thrown in as a special bonus.

Synchronous to all of this revelry, I (like many of you, I will assume) have experienced the gentle prodding of my conscience, reminding me that if I donıt finish those papers soon, I will most likely begin to receive subtle yet forcefully-worded memos/threats armed with computer viruses in my e-mail. They will undoubtedly be sent by impersonal hired guns, satisfied by discreet arrangements with my disgruntled professors. In hopes of avoiding any unnecessary coercive violence, I wish to say that yes! I am working on them! My work will be finished and turned in, I promise.

My first great stride into the weekend was to accidentally replace one very important research paper with what was a very inane and very short draft of this very column. Panic! In my mind this event set off a series of disastrous events that found me on the verge of a full-blown end-of-the-year breakdown. The last of these was the realization, pointed out by my dear roommate, that a six-inch rip had made its way down the back of my day-glo sundress. If it werenıt for the love and support (and alone time) given to me by my roommates . . . well, that and the fact that people probably couldnıt have looked directly into my dress without burning their retinas . . . I may have been a goner.

So I decided to use the fireworks and Presidentıs Ball as devices to maintain my fragile sanity. I got myself all gussied up in my old junior prom dress and bedroom slippers and padded on down to Skoglund to watch the fireworks display. Great show! And who could have predicted the behemoth grand finale, which somehow managed to set the northwest quadrant of campus on fire. As snaking waves of flames engulfed the prairie, a great many thoughts circulated through the minds of gaping students. They thought about the lack of fire hoses, the land weıd been saving from the hospital road, the nutritive value of burning grasslands, the imminent danger to our dormitories. I personally thought this would be a perfect photo op for the cover of the next St. Olaf Magazine. It would have certainly impressed the alumni, at least the ones that werenıt already visiting for the inauguration.

Wellstock managed to consume the greater part of Saturday, despite the gale force winds and frequent sunshowers. The latter of these aggravated the activities onstage somewhat, but overall the proceedings went hitch-free. Leave it to a laid-back outdoor concert/picnic/loll-about to arrest the academic progress of a couple thousand 18- to 22-year-olds for seven hours. I certainly did.

With the action-packed lineup we experienced this weekend, it is a wonder that everyone made it to Monday unscathed. In light of the uniqueness of the circumstances of this weekendıs celebrations, we can be understanding of the three-ring circus that was St. Olaf. It isnıt every day that we get a new president, after all. Besides, his dance performances proved to be real crowd pleasers. It certainly was exciting initiating our new college leader, but by the end of this weekend, we were ready for a nap.