Between 1978-1982, I was going to college at Cal Poly in San Luis Obispo, CA. I was taking computer science. Al Yankovic was taking architecture and just starting his musical career. He had recorded My Bologna and Another One Rides The Bus, and was a DJ on campus radio. We didn’t know each other.
I roomed with three other guys in a two bedroom townhouse. I can’t remember why, but we had a cubic foot of ice at our place. We were not sure what to do with it. I said, “Why don’t we give it to Weird Al?”
One of my roomies was a DJ at the radio station. He knew where Weird Al lived.
A few years before, I had made a Conehead costume, which amounted to a skinhead wig that made my head about a foot taller. Glued on with spirit gum, it covered all my cranial hair except my eyebrows and mustache.
I put the Conehead on. Three of us stood, looking at the stairway to Weird Al’s apartment. (One of the roomies decided not to go with us, the wimp.) The other two guys said, “Dave, you’re going up there alone.” (Wimps.)
I climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. Some guy answered. I held out the ice in both arms and said in my best Beldar Conehead voice: “Crystalized di-hydrogen oxide for Weird Al.”
The guy smiled and said, “Yeah, Al’s gonna want to see this.” He turned right. “Hey, Al!” And he stepped back to let me inside.
A tall, gangly guy with long red curly hair came into the room. He gaped and laughed at the sight of me. I laughed back. Then Beldar asserted himself again. I held out the ice. “Crystalized di-hydrogen oxide for Weird Al.”
He took it. “I’ll treasure it always.”
That’s all I remember. I bet Al would remember this, but it’s unlikely I’ll run into him anytime soon.