BUT WAIT A MINUTE! HERE COMES THE CLASSIC OF THE AGES. It is another contribution by one of our members; but the author, being modest and shy, had made me promise not to tell anyone that her name is JOANNE SCARBOROUGH. So I won't. Any- who, here it is: The Journal of Traveling Patton Swimmers,

The expedition, which was scheduled to leave M.B.C.'s house at 8:00 AM, promptly set out at 9!!! Most of the room in the station wagon was taken up by pillows, for pillow fighting in the hotel room; medicinal equipment, mainly for ingrown toenails, barracuda bites, and seasickness, but none for practical use; and of course swim suits and fins, for we were off to Pittsburgh for the Women's Swimming Nat'ls.

It was a peaceful ride on the Ohio Turnpike except for a fit of P.A. 's when M.B.C. beat both of her talented (?) opponents in a pinochle game. The girls didn't mind losing--but losing to someone playing her first game...! Pinochle having been abolished we turned to "Hearts", but this game too was banned after a fist fight broke out between B.J. and P.A. because they kept giving each other the queen of spades--which is thirteen points against the holder--which is bad-- which is enough said about cards.

After enjoying an early afternoon snack at the traditional plaza on the Turnpike, The Hawk and Company strolled calmly out to the car, which had been locked to discourage pillow snatchers and thieves with an affinity for gear bags, only to discover the keys had been left inside. There was a mild anti-swimmer demonstration staged by the Hawk, but he was placated when it was pointed out that someone could roll down the back window and climb through the tailgate. The keys were quickly retrieved and we drove on.

Upon entering Pennsylvania, we were entertained by both M.B.C.'s historical knowledge of the countryside and the Hawk's cultural interpretation of the concert music which droned on and on and on and on...on the radio. Thanks to the trolley car cables, which caused so much static the radio couldn't be heard, the Hawk was compelled to turn it off and the younger passengers were put out of their misery.

While driving into Pittsburgh, P.A.'s expert (?) navigating abilities were employed, and we were able to maintain a direct route to the Univ. of Pitt. There were, of course, a few detours, for the winding brick road (and I do mean "winding"!) did not seem to follow the map. In the back, M.B.C. (silently) and B.J. (not so silently) criticized P.A.'s directions, but we arrived at a promising-looking campus and stopped in front of a group of boys. The Hauck instructed us to ask one of them directions to the pool. There was some speculation as to whether or not they knew the difference between a swimming pool and billiard pool, but P.A. quickly took the situation in hand and by means of a lengthy stroke demonstration made them understand what we were looking for. Sudden realization came to the boys. They instructed the Hawk to drive to the U. of Pitt. and ask someone there--for they were at the wrong college--Carnegie Tech. We promptly set out to find the pool and, quite by accident, stumbled upon Hotel Webster Hall, where we had reservations.