This post is out of sequence and goes back to March 29th. The flight into New York was delayed because of weather and we circled Chicago for an hour as huge clouds filled and exploded with lighting. I wonder what Wordsworth would have written about wandering lonely clouds if he could have seen them from 30,000 feet. Coming off the plane it was made clear that I had missed my connection and would have to spend the night in Chicago. As I was heading to take the train into town, I heard my name over the intercom system being paged to a certain gate. The short of the story is that the airline actually brought the plane back off the tarmac and allowed about 6 passengers to board.
I got into New York about 1:30am and recited, "The Owl and Pussy Cat," while standing on the bar. Two of the regulars got into a shouting match, each telling the other they should listen to me. When I got to the "O pussy, O pussy what a beautiful pussy your are," line, the woman regular said, "Please talk about my pussy," and the man regular went crazy, yelling about her pussy, which ended with her punching him in the face and him returning the punch, but she had got the best of him and they both were exiled from the bar. That's Slam Poetry!