You toss your half-eaten pie into the nearest dustbin. Somehow that episode with the cabbie put you in a good mood, the fact that he didn't charge you a fare didn't hurt either.
As you make your way up the crowded alleyway to the Art Institute, where the Slam Poetry Night was taking place, you fantasize about Gina. You hadn't seen each other since she left for vacation with her family three months earlier. Summer was almost over, she had been on vacation and you had been busy with your internship, this would be a releif for both of you before school started in the fall.
You notice a bunch of bicycles laying out in front of the Institute's Bloomberg Theatre, making you smirk. The 3rd Eye Theatre Troupe were brilliant, albeit a bit wierd, and they would really outdo themselves with the titles of their engagements, sometimes taking it a bit too far.
The steps are empty so you snap out of your dream and run inside the main hall of the auditorium. The show hasn't started yet, everyone's still schmoozing around the hors d'oeuvres.
You look around for Gina; as you turn your head she pops right into view. Startled, you jump back, but then you both exclaim your pleasantries. In the meantime, hosts usher the audience into the theatre itself.
The show takes off to a slow start, the Troupe performs the same numbers you had seen a dozen times before; Gina isn't too excited about seeing them again either. A few brave souls venture onto stage and deliver a few sharp performances but mostly repetitive and nervous slams.
To ease the boredom, you begin to comment on the performer's attire and predict based off of that, the subject matter of the attire. Gina starts giggling and throws her head back from time to time with that deep grin that you'd always find her with.
"Please don't be shy, yall," the emcee, clad in a throwback basketball jersey and plad golf pants, pleads, "come on, give us what ever ya got."
Gina elbows you, you return the favor. She looks at you and eggs you on, begging you to go up to the stage. Initially hesitant, you give in and get up, and make your way to the stage.