8 years ago tonight. It was the last poetry slam I would win. The Toronto Poetry Slam August installment at the Drake Underground. I went to Toronto alone that weekend and got a fairly cheap little hotel room for 2 nights. It was an old building that used to be a college dorm that was converted into hotel rooms. It served its' purpose as a place to crash at the end of eventful days.
That night I wandered into the Drake, quiet, observant and a little early as usual at the time. I signed up for the slam. Signed up for the mailing list. Made some brief introductions to the organizers and asked about the rules. I didn't tell them I was from out of town. I think I was insecure that if I had, maybe they'd be less welcoming. Like, oh this out of town hotshot wants to come in and compete with poets of the GTA. I know that's silly but so am I. I played it cool. I was incognito.
I don't even remember what poem I did in round 1 but I qualified for the next round and that was all that was important. Then I did my sex poem; "Craving". I did it a little rushed because I knew the time of it was up against the limit. Thankfully I got in under time. The place went nuts. There was a lot of who is this guy looks on people's faces. I was trying to figure out which poem to do as my encore after I found out I won, because in Buffalo, at Pure Ink, you would do an encore piece if you did. The host gave me the $90 Canadian prize and told me I had the mic. Thankfully I asked; "Can I do another poem?". No, she said. Just say a few words. I'm sure a blank look came over my face. I was ready to deliver another poem, not impromptu remarks. I looked out into a packed house with people standing around the edges because they ran out of seats. I saw all these strange faces. I thanked the crowd for the love. I gave love to the other poets. I mentioned how I was terrified to be up there on stage in front of everyone but sometimes life begins outside your comfort zone. Although I have built a permanent residence inside my comfort zone, I still believe that.
I got outside and so many folks came over to say nice things. My head was spinning. I asked people their names and then thanked them by name. Asked them if they write poetry. My head kept spinning. It felt surreal. Finally the crowd dispersed. I had about a 20 block walk back to the hotel so I started walking up Queen West with this cheese grin on my face. I found myself walking so fast. The adrenaline was still pumping. By the time I got to Trinity Bellwoods park, I was straight up marching. I told myself to stop. Take in the moment. So I sat on a bench and just reflected on it all for almost a half hour. Dare I say, savored it. The goal wasn't to come to Toronto to win a poetry slam, it was just to challenge myself, by myself, in a new place with a crowd that didn't know me at all. My goal was to make it past the first round and the rest would be gravy.
After that moment of reflection and appreciation, I realized I still had almost 10 blocks to go to get back to the hotel. I saw the streetcar coming. I thought, what the hell. I got on and it was pretty much empty. I sat down and no one was within 15 feet of me. At the next stop, a young couple came on board and sat across from me. They immediately recognized me as that poet guy. Some very kind things were said. They asked me if I had a book for sale. I didn't. I thanked them for their kindness and wished them a good rest of their night and before I knew it, my stop had come. I got off and stopped at the bodega near the hotel and got a snack and brought it back to my room.
That night I went to bed as an International poetry slam winner. Little did I know at the time, I would never win another poetry slam but even more surprising to me, was that I would hardly compete in many more after this. It was like this was the peak on a journey that took me so much further than I thought it would. I was more than satisfied. I also began to slow down a little. How many 42-year-olds were even in these poetry slams? The hunger and limited ambition I had were fading. Fast forward to now and I don't write as much as I used to. I don't share as much as I used to... and you never see me performing anymore let alone competing. There are so many young folks with so much to say and they should say it. It's their turn. Maybe one day a quiet, grey haired poet will join them on stage. But even if I don't, I'll always have nights like this one, 8 years ago, to remind me how much I once loved it. There's nothing like the power of words.
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