(RSC & The Keys Incident)

12:10 PM: So, I finally get a chance to sleep for about 4.5 hours after this huge night. We got SOS, Pack, Kno & Vanessa in the crib and Pack was scheduled to rock a little something at the Rocksteady Anniversary in Harlem that afternoon.

So, we decided to split up, cause Pack had to be there early, and Kno had to pick up Natti, SunnyStylez and Sicari who were stayin at some chick’s house uptown. I left Kno & Vanessa with my house keys and broke out with Pack & SOS with whatever Merch we could carry. Kno would then take the other half with Vanessa and meet us at RSC.

So, Pack, SOS & I arrive at the RSC Anniversary. I respect these brothers because they go through the trouble of organizing this event every year and it’s always fun. Still, It’s upsetting to watch this event become scaled back in the past couple of years because of the city’s bullshit politics and red tape.

Anyway, We set up a merch table and sold a few CDs…SOS then broke out to catch his bus back to ATL and Mecca showed up. Around 5 PM, Pack & I hit the stage for Pack’s set…did the damn thizzle and then I had to break out.

Kno wasn’t gonna be able to roll through to the event in time, and I needed to get Vanessa to the airport for her flight at 8:50 pm. So, I hopped in a cab with the 6 boxes of merch that we brought to RSC and headed to meet Kno, pick up the remaining merch he had brought for RSC and pick Vanessa up in the process.

...14 Boxes and 15 minutes later, Vanessa and I are in a cab, and we decide to skip dropping the boxes off and make our way back to the Airport, just to be safe. We hit Laguardia… I drop her off from the cab and make my way back home. I get home, unload all the boxes and drag all 14 heavy ass boxes to my stoop all by my lonesome.

I reach into my pocket to open the front door.

...

WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY KEYS?!!

...

OH FUCK. VANESSA HAS MY KEYS AND SHE’S ON A FLIGHT TO MIAMI!

...

I had a fuckin breakdown. I literally just sat on my stoop. I just couldn’t deal with anything anymore. See, the problem was…Mrs. Deff wouldn’t be home for another 2 days and I’d be locked out of my house with 14 boxes of merch I couldn’t leave out there.

...

OK, LET ME CALL VANESSA!...FUCK… I FORGOT.. HER PHONE PLAN DOESNT WORK UP HERE IN NEW YORK.

...
So, I made a gut decision to call another cab [Luckily I had $20 left] and drag all these boxes with me to the airport. I’d have to reach her somehow before she left, or I was FUCKED. She had her wireless laptop, and I called a few people to see if maybe she was online – she wasn’t. Damn.

I got to LGA and It took a minute to find a way to make it from the curb to the inside of the ticket counter. I managed to steal a cart and loaded the merch up…rolled into line and waited. The clock was ticking and this shit was taking forever. I still wasn’t sure if she had the keys or not, but I couldn’t get Kno on the phone to verify cause his reception was shitty too.

I stepped up to the ticket dude and I explained the situation to him… I gave him all the relevant info: her name, departure time, destination… he located her flight and had her paged.

He left me at the counter for a second…5 agonizing minutes later, he returned with my keys. As he placed them in my hand, he said, “She told me to tell you not to kill her”. To which I responded, “I can’t, she’s already past security.”

It’s kinda funny. She was with me the whole weekend, and endured my last night of editing and was a LIFESAVER for the show, etc. So, I’m not mad at her at all. It was partially my fault too, cause we were BOTH too fried to remember the important little details. I love my niece…but this definitely woulda sucked. haha

My adrenaline was sky-high by now. This weekend had kicked the living shit out of me, and I was dehydrated and just starting to melt. I lugged the cart of merch over to the Wendy’s at the other end of the terminal and ordered the Biggie Sized Dr.Pepper.

I collapsed into one of those metal chairs in the food court and sipped my way back into reality. I still had a cab ride back home and 14 boxes of merch to lug up 4 flights of stairs.

Well, to make a ridiculously long story a couple paragraphs shorter, I managed to get all the merch upstairs. I was exhausted, spent, drenched from the humid summer heat, bruised, moderately dehydrated and sleep deprived.

I surrendered to my living room couch, falling into it like a truckload of bricks. My heart pounding from 5/6 arduous trips upstairs. My eyes shut themselves…and my mind blanked out.

I suddenly recalled the rush of walking out onto a stage in front of a frenzied crowd.

And even after ALL of that, somehow…it was all worth it.

Hollerate.
Tone.