One Night in Philly - P.A.W. Print - Philadelphia Arts Writers

One Night in Philly
by Michael Grover

Names have been changed to protect the innocent. I guess we'll do this like one of those hip movies that starts with the ending, then shows you how they got there. It's about two am and David and I are out wandering the streets aimlessly. I'm trying to convince him that there is an energy vortex under city hall.

We've been babbling incomprehensively for at least a half an hour. I point over to what I say is the most damning piece of evidence to prove my point. The Masonic Temple right across the street. David says "No, maybe they just needed masons to build city hall."

So we walk over to that magnificent castle like temple. Not that I had any intention of doing so, I was just trying to scare David. I point over at the temple and say loudly, "I'm gonna blow up that building."

David just goes crazy "No, you can't say that." He's looking around for minions coming out of the sidewalk, coming to take us away. I said it a few more times just for effect.

Now rewind the time machine. As a poet I knew this city had been dead for a while. There was honestly nothing going on. Then something clicked. A couple of things started to happen then this news came via the PW. Saul Williams was coming to the Five Spot!

This was glorious news. I had not been back to the Five Spot since they cancelled the reading we did there about a year ago, but it was time to return. You could feel the shift of the energy in the air. Things were getting exciting again. After a few times of trying to get advanced tickets we gave up and decided they were not selling them.

So the night of the show I showed up a little after seven and found David waiting on the corner. There was no one waiting outside yet so we found a cheap Irish Pub around the corner and drank some Guinness. We went back to find a couple of people hanging out waiting so we decided to wait. One was a guy that put on poetry shows in town, he was not a poet, he was a poetry promoter.

That's right folks a real poetry business man. He and I got into an interesting conversation where he said he looked for the crowd's reaction. As an artist I asked him "What about the message?" He basically said the message was nothing if the crowd was not with it. So I got into it with him. I know a lot of people have called me a fascist and other such things. What am I? I am on a mission to protect the sacred honor of poetry and I was not about to let this bozo shit on its good name and not give him a piece of my mind.

A couple of more friends showed up so we all hung out together. The doors opened and we got a booth inside for the four of us.

We got some drinks and waited for the show. The first band was Philmore Brown which was like a wall of punk rock noise over poetry and spoken word. One of our other friends asked me what I thought of them, I told him if these guys were saying anything then the vocals would be clearer. You could barely make them out. He nodded his head in agreement.

The band finished and one of our friends pulled out a joint. He asked me, "Can we smoke this here?"

"If we keep it low." I replied.

David had recently just started drinking and smoking again, his eyes lit up when he saw it. I took a couple of hits and passed it to his salivating ass. I must admit this was strong pot and it did not have a normal feel to it. As soon as David hit it I could see that something was not right by the look in his eyes.

We had to put it away after the first round because the waitress smelled it and was looking around for it.

David was not well. He just started laughing. He grabbed my pen and started writing. All he could write was "I am too gone." I could tell by the look of him that he was starting to feel sick. So I asked him, "David, do you need to go to the bathroom?"

"Yeah."

"Come on, I'll take you."

"I can make it on my own."

David got up and looked at the crowd. It was wall to wall people. He started to wonder how he would make it to the bathroom. He looked back at me. I got up and said "Come on, let's go." I grabbed him by the arm and weaved through the crowd. I knew exactly where the bathroom was from doing the poetry reading there.

David was happy to make it to the bathroom. He did his business and I suggested that we head over to the bar and get him some water. We did, then he wanted to make it over to the door and get some fresh air. Right about then Saul Williams started. I looked up at David hugging the door. "I'm going to the booth to see the show."

"I'll be alright." David said.

I reluctantly left him there. Somehow I made it back to the booth we were in to see the show which was amazing. It started off totally punk rock, then he made the transition by doing a poem with no music, then he ripped straight into the hip hop stuff. Saul Williams is fucking amazing! I felt guilty about leaving David the whole show.

When it was over I looked around for him. Someone said they saw him leaning against the wall as a point of reference. I looked all over the club upstairs and down and found no sign of David. I went outside and the promoter guy was standing there. I asked him if he had seen him leave and he said no.

So I gave up on the search and left the club feeling bad. I walked down Chestnut to Third and there walking down Third Street was David. He was happy to see me. We went back to the club to see if our friends were still there and they were not.

I asked David what he was gonna do. He said he was gonna walk around until he felt right then he would drive home. I told him I was walking home so he said he would walk with me. We walked straight up Market Street I was telling him the best way the agents could get at the subversive community is to put some bad pot out there, and indeed I believed we had smoked some bad pot. I did not know who put it out there or anything about it. I just know this stuff we smoked was not right and I think David would agree.

We walked straight up Market Street. Past that stupid cracked bell, past the federal building that is guarded by AK47's during the day. We talked about the strangest stuff, then we made it to City Hall.