Section A·Page 6
The University Daily Kansan
Wednesday, October 27, 1999
Behind the glittering tiara,
Continued from page 1A
Left: Beth Polston performs a tap dance routine to an upbeat song for her talent portion of the contest.
In the morning, before I left, I found a note Ashly had left on the refrigerator: "Good luck tomorrow. And don't forget your sense of humor."
Right: Jamie Haughton displays her talent in a ballet routine that she choreographed.
By that afternoon, I was looking around the room at Burlington High School, sizing up the competition.
The high school girls, Jamie Haughton, Shenandoah Rain and Angela Busy, were definitely pretty, but they didn't seem ready for Miss America. Kristina Janzen had been in more than 75孕妇, but she was sick and
A
pretty grouchy
Barbara Baker was cookie-cutter cute.
And then there was Beth Polston.
Beth was now.
Beth was gorgeous, and she knew it. She
was confident — she had won this pageant two years ago. She'd been to Miss Kansas twice. She stood up, smiled a toothy smile and offered to
show all the newcomers the ropes. I knew it immediately — Beth was going to win.
I was famished by lunch time, having eaten only half a doughnut for breakfast. After we had rehearsed the entire program, Shenandoah told me we were getting a party sub from Subway for lunch. I was ecstatic. I fantasized a four-foot cold-cut combo. But I was sorely disappointed.
Shenandoah was wrong. Lunch was catered by an area grocery store. We each received one turkey sandwich about
two inches wide and four inches across. Minute sandwiches, carrot sticks and a Diet Coke. Hardly a hearty meal.
I managed to finagle some nacho cheese Doritos from a stagehand. The other contestants looked at me as If I were eating bugs.
ward and addressed the rest of the contestants:
"Not to be a pig, but can I have another sandwich?"
I wanted another one too, but I didn't ask. No one did. And this would be the most food we'd have all day: Dinner was breadsticks and one trip through the Pizza Hut salad bar. I began to wonder if starvation was a pageant thing.
my sympathy for the hungry Angelae ended abruptly when I asked her to help me carry in some stuff from my car. "I'm sorry," she cooed condescendingly. "I have to go get my hair
curled." It would have taken the two of us one trip. By myself, it took three. And we had two hours to get ready.
I shared a dressing room with Shenandoah, Jamie and Barbara. It was the novice room, the "practice" dressing room, kind of like the kids' table at Thanksgiving.
I set my hair in hot rollers and did a once-over with my makeup. It took me six minutes. I looked around,
slowly going over their features. with foundation, consciently rolling their hair into about 100 curlers, tweezing eyebrows, de-linting clothes.
ended up sneaking into the teachers' lounge, where I tried to call my Burlington-bound contingent of friends. I couldn't figure out how to tap into long distance, so I decided to go back and watch.
Jamie was rustling through her makeup bag. "Do anyone have any lip liner?"
Barbara handed her four lip liners. "Don't worry about it," she said, "it's a pageant thing. We share."
I can't find mine."
At 1:30 p.m., the interviews began. Although
they accounted for 30 percent of our score, I wasn't nervous. I'm a reporter. I interview people every day. I've interviewed district attorneys, accused rapists and
the girlfriends of sex offenders. A panel of beauty pageant judges was no threat.
And while I was a little antsy about the swimsuit and talent cometi-
tions (I still didn't have that monologue down), talking to people is my forte. I may not have been the buffet or the best tap dancer, but I was pretty sure I was the brightest. Jamie's interview was right before
mine. When she came out, she was smiling. "Oh, you'll do fine," she said. "My hardest question was, 'If you had a day without rules, what would you do?' "
How easy.I thought I was set.
I went inside and stood on the podium in front of the five judges. The first few questions were simple. I had chosen to promote voting for my
platform issue because I had worked for a voter-education group for two summers. I had the good down.
The questions got harder, though: "What do you look for in a presidential candidate?"
"What changes would you implement in American foreign policy?"
what is the biggest problem at KU?"
"What do you think of the mower?
Are you think of the most WISH America controversy?"
"I think Miss America should be a role model." I said.
This one startled me. I knew what they wanted to hear, and I knew what I believed. I took a deep breath — and didn't sell out.
"But who are we to say that divorce or a prior pregnancy disqualifies someone from being a role model? Perhaps we need to re-evaluate our standards, or focus on accomplishments and intelligence."
My roommate Ashly would have been proud.
The next question was even more taxing: "Katie, what do you know for sure?"
The hippie-Zen question flabbergasted me. I babbled something about how human beings were awesome and complicated creatures — I don't even remember what I said.
that I had choked in the one arena where I held the upper hand. Most of all, I was jealous of the day without rules question. I could have shown that inane hypothetical no mercy.
Back in the dressing room, as I changed into my comfortable red sweater and jeans, I was alone with Jamie. She and I were the only rookies. Everyone else had at least some pageant experience.
"Katie, what do you think of all this?" she asked.
"I'm not really sure." I told her.
"I heard them talking about me," she said, gesturing to the wall that separated us from the other dressing room. "And it wasn't good."
Jamie is a senior at Burlington High School, a hometown girl.
I instantly wondered what was being said about me. If they disrespected cheerleader, balerina Jamie, I was scared to hear how they'd berate me.
"I've grown up watching this pageant," she said. "I've seen Beth and Kristina in it before. Kristina's been in this three times already."
"Do you want to know something?" She
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