London Calling

I received this message on Facebook this morning: 

Hey Ann, it's Sam here, Jessie's friend in London. Still remember me? Anyway, random question...are you in London??? I thought i saw someone on the tube today that looks incredibly like you. Please confirm I'm not going nuts...

Big city.  Small world.  Sam is not going nuts.  I was in fact in London.  Upon further communication, it turns out that Sam spotted me on the Northern line, where I got off at Borough at 8:30 pm on Thursday to surprise my friend Dan at his poetry event,

Bang Said the Gun. 

It was a last minute decision.  I had mentioned that maybe I had wanted to go in an email to Jurga a few weeks ago, and by the time I got to Lithuania, she had purchased a ticket for herself.  There is a doctor there that helped her with her thyroid 10 years ago.  The problem has resurfaced, Lithuanian doctors told her the only option is to cut it out, and so she wanted to see this Chinese doctor in London again.  She also wanted company.  And so my plan to surprise my poetry-riddled friends on the weekend of the London Teenage Poetry Slam was hatched.  We'd stay with Andrius' cousin, so no need to tell any of my friends I was coming.  I knew when the major events were, so no need to phone anyone to make plans.  Just a weekend of surprises.  

Most of these turned out brilliantly, with only one great disappointment.

The disappointment taught me a valuable lesson in writing thank you notes.  My friend Marty had sent me a t-shirt around Christmastime from the spoken word club that he and some of his students started at their school.  I immediately went out and purchased one of these postcards that he really likes where you can cut out the pieces on the front and make a little 3D creature.  I affixed an airmail stamp to it, and then proceeded to put it in my notebook where I found it yesterday.  After surprise number one on Thursday night, where I showed up at the Roebuck and in the middle of his poetry set, Dan announced, "My goodness, Ann!  You've come a long way, any requests for the last poem I read?" I asked for Marty's phone number as I had half-expected to see him at the event, and was mildly disappointed not to, and Dan informed me that he was in Australia for his bast mate's wedding.  As he is a teacher to one of the team's competing in the slam, I never imagined this possibility.  Dan said he was "gutted" by the decision to go the wedding, and I had a similar feeling in the pit of my stomach at the news he was not there.  

But I shall not dwell on the negative.  I miss him, but our paths will cross again if they are meant to.  In the mean time, I love love surprising people, and I got the others pretty damn good.  Dan's wife was the first to spot me in the pub.  Then I came out of the WC to see

Bismark ordering a Coke at the bar.  It took him a few minutes to register and believe it really was me.  Then I got a surprise myself when I went upstairs to the event and saw that Oak Park's own Adam Levin and David Gilmer were the guest poets.  Here I learned another valuable lesson.  This one about the differences between Chicago poetry and London poetry.  Chicago= very serious.  London = all about sex.  Now this may have something to do with the age and experience of the poets (Chicago = 2oish, London=39ish), and the characters Dan runs around with in London, but for now I will generalize.  

Friday was not quite as magical as Thursday night.  First to the doctor for Jurga, which meant a good 3 hrs round trip on the tube, but I was happy to support and accompany her.  Then to Camden Town for lunch, which I had not been to before, and will admit, is quite a site.  I briefly contemplated getting another tattoo, wolfed down a giant calzone for just 3 quid, and wandered for an hour or so through the vendors soaking in the multitude of characters strewn

 throughout.  Oh, and everyone was playing Michael Jackson, like everyone.  Even the leather shops and chinese food stands.  Then, she wanted to find good deals at the shops on Oxford street. I begrudgingly agreed.  I hate Oxford street.  I didn't remember that so strongly until I got there.  It makes me want to crawl into a dark corner, close my eyes, put my hands over my ears, and rock back and forth until the world goes away. Too many people is an understatement.  And it was hot this visit (can't complain too much, was snowing last time I was there). That led to a series of almost arguments that led me to question why it is that I am so bad at traveling with other people.  

But Saturday made it all worth it.  The London Teenage Poetry Slam was brilliant, and so were the looks on various faces as I made my way though the poets, students,teachers, and organizers as they readied for the event.  First, Kieran.  He was on the winning team that came to Chicago two years ago when I met Dan and Marty.  He is now a "shadow" or a student helper for his school, Kingsford's, slam team.  He has also grown about another foot since I last saw him, putting him around 6'6" or so.  Then Bianca, also a member of that team, back to help coach the younger students. 

 Esme about had a heart attack and quickly whipped out her camera phone, claiming that Lauren and Zara would never believe her (I was hoping to see these two lovelies from last year's winning team who stayed with me in November, but they were not there).  Fahro barely said hello before she started yelling at me for not telling her I was coming because how were we going to have a proper chat if I was running off to the airport away from London in the middle of the slam. She also solved the "I don't have a ticket and the Slam's sold out" problem by assigning me the job of timekeeper.   Ugochi didn't

 seem so surprised as she did genuinely happy to see me.  Her lack of surprise may have come from the fact that she had JUST flown in from Chicago and like me, was only in London for a few days. Peter was last.  He was busy preparing for his duties as a judge.  But upon seeing me, he briefly forgot how to speak and then called me Ms. Petroliunas as if we were at school, before hugging me and quickly filling me on his affairs of the heart whilst in London. My last surprise came when about 2 hours into the event, I looked across the theater to see a man who looked an awful lot like the head of the English Department at OPRF, where I teach.  Not five minutes late the MC announced that we did indeed have Steve Gevinson, head of English at the high school that hosts the slam winners, in the audience.  Chicago was well represented to say the least.

Cheesy as it may be, the energy at that event was like a drug.  The students excitement was infectious, never mind I couldn't understand half of the poetry through their adorable accents. And my friends in this world are the kind that can show you their appreciation and affection with a single sentence that's enough to last until the next time your paths cross. I think that may be the true beauty of this exchange that Peter and Fahro started.  The people involved in the project are so different, yet exactly the same.  My scheme to surprise was extremely well-received, and although my time there was short, is was packed full of friendship, passion, and exhilaration. Sometimes I wonder what we could accomplish if we all lived in the same place, but mostly I know that the beauty of it all is that we are worlds apart, yet united in our vision and our belief in our students.