I'm sitting at table number seven, drink in hand and absorbing the aroma of stale cigarettes and spilled alcohol. Mm, I love my weekends. A lot of us do.

We begin with the "Thirsty Thursday" kick off, where we extend our weekend to four days of relaxing, hanging out, or hitting up the Saloon for its famous monkey boys. Many even try to coordinate our schedules to accommodate, allotting either a late afternoon block of classes or eliminating Friday classes altogether. I know I do.

So whether you have Friday classes or not, Saturday nights always allow our brains to escape from classes and faculty members, right?

Well, maybe not.

Table number seven at the Phyrst is my place to break away from the chaos of the week before. But as soon as I take a glance left who do I see, none other than Penn State President Graham Spanier.

Great, he's playing in the band?

OK, now I'm confused. Is this the same man that's always increasing tuition? The man that wants to start charging for the Loop again? The same man that never shows his face?

The one that wants a walking campus but further extends the mileage of classroom locations? It can't be. The man on stage does not look like the one who doesn't allow Martin Luther King, Jr. Day as a holiday.

His appearance seems to be that of approachable. This is not the Spanier I remember.

His double-breasted suit must be in the wash because he is decked out with a pair of worn jeans and a faded T-shirt. And is that a genuine smile I catch on his face? Where did the uptight desk man go? Where did the man that has all of my money for college disappear to? If I had never seen his picture before, I wouldn't have guessed he was "The Graham Spanier".

As Spanier steps onto the stage, he accompanies the three original Phyrst family players, and begins to perform.

His unique washboard/harmonica contraption adds the final touch to the combination of a banjo, a guitar, and tambourine. Wow, he has musical talent. I decide to keep an eye on him. There must be some kind of hidden agenda underneath his ordinary façade. Spanier seems tricky. There is something up his sleeve.

As I watch, I notice the enthusiasm leaking from him into the crowd. He really gets into these Irish pub songs. He really does like to play.

Two hours pass and nothing has given him away. I give up. There is no sign of that Penn State name, in an unseen office, on the top floor of Old Main. He transforms into Graham, at a bar, on Beaver Ave., it's just different than what I thought.

After his set, students even try to hunt him down for a picture. Yes, I admit, I am one of them. I've been here for four years and taking a picture with Spanier has never crossed my mind until now. My views on his policies don't change but my view on his personality does.

Many of us, myself included, bicker about Spanier frequently. I mean, he does appear that he wants to tear up every sidewalk in Penn State. However, he does have numerous achievements. He is a part of creating the world campus and the Schreyer's Honors College, and still tries to accomplish one of the hardest tasks, trying to make students happy while doing what he thinks is best.

It would be impossible to say that everyone is gratuitous towards him, but at least I have to give him the credit of trying.

Maybe I was skeptical of his alter ego, but what better way to relate to students then going to a bar and playing in the band.

To a lot of us, he sets the rules, signs the papers, and never cancels classes. Taking a closer look, this washboard frenzy makes him a real person with real interests.

Maybe he's not as horrible as I thought.

So whether it's for humor, a jar of beer, or just the chance to see Spanier's washboard, take a stand on table number seven because it's "Saturday night, woo, Saturday night ..."