Don't Slam Big Poppa E

Terrified of what a “Slam Poetry” reading could bring, I bribed my urbanite Chicagoan friend with a cup of coffee in to tagging along. Although, it turned out to be less of talking her into it, rather her convincing me that it was going to be really cool and that she loved slam poetry. Who knew?

As we walked up to Old Brick, the air was filled with a sweet aroma of maple syrup and sweet pastries, only to find out that Big Poppa E was not serving pancakes, rather it was a fundraiser and Big Poppa E was not at Old Brick, rather the daunting lecture hall of MacBride Auditorium, so our adventure continued. Walking into MacBride brought back memories of freshman year science class as well as a complete shock. Expecting the auditorium to be packed with poetry gurus, I found a few college students sitting, a few running around frantically untangling cords and dragging massive speakers, and then a number of students sitting at tables with numerous signs and brochures. Then I saw Big Poppa E himself, recognizing his distinct style from his website and his unique voice uncovering the details of the student tables.

After watching Big Poppa E, rather than listening to him, for 20 minutes as he conversed with students and pounded a Rockstar energy drink, he finally got up on stage. He let us know that he too was a little bummed out with the turnout, but he was determined to have enough of us to do the wave. Although, I thought this might be fun, it was small enough that it almost seemed conversational. I had expected a packed house and after running across campus expecting a packed house it was nice to sit and observe, rather than be jammed in a corner of a packed lecture hall. He started to point out people in the audience giving them names, while the microphones were being adjusted. Naming kids, Red for her hair, Green for his shirt, Bandaid for his ridiculously cut arms, and finally Phish for his hair, he finally was given a mic. Big Poppa E introduced J[amnesty], and then informed the audience that he had to pee, but first would pick us out a crucial playlist for the two minutes he would be gone. At this point, my friend had become extremely irritated and hollered out asking exactly how long was the restroom break going to take him. Big Poppa E found this his first opportunity to start his “Slam” poetry. He named my friend “Angry girl” and then went in to how she was going to be referred to as his ex-girlfriend for the rest of the show. After he went off on his tangent, he finally picked his playlist and then was off to the bathroom, only then to inform us that he did not know where the bathroom was, and was a bit terrified to ask for directions, for fear that “Angry girl” might come after him. Once Big Poppa E took care of business and returned to the stage, he was overwhelmingly entertaining. This poetry reading was definitely worth the wait.

Ashley Baldinelli