The iLL-Literacy hotel room is utter frenzy from checkin to checkout. No, it is not the typical rock-band-hotel-room frenzy. There are no groupies presenting their ID’s, coke lines on the coffee table, Nico is not tripping off acid standing barefoot on the bed doing air-guitars. It's the type of frenzy you’d expect from four sensitive-ass poets shoved together in a room, each playing out their fantasies in their heads in one way or another. We each have our roles. I’m the one that speaks fast, asks random questions, the manager. In the middle of watching Fresh Prince I’ll randomly ask Dahlak, “You remembered to bring your contact cleaners this time, right?” Dahlak is the explorer. Though constantly tired (he juggles iLL-Lit gigs with his production “Scourge” and being a college student. Last year he was also a librarian. What.) Dahlak scans the surrounding most intently. If you look closely enough, you can see him planning his takeover of the world. Ruby is the facilitator. She’ll be the one to find Dahlak’s contact cleaners in his pocket for him. Or in the midst of a racist joke that crossed the line, or a sexist joke that crossed the line, or some other inappropriate comment made (which occurs on an average of once every four minutes), Ruby will interject with an “Oh dear,” or “Golly!” or some other colonial-era colloquialism that causes you to question if she is a reincarnate of Anne of Green Gables. During this past weekend’s trip to Illinois, her catchphrase of choice was “Geez Louise!” in which I so bitterly replied, “Oh Man-O Veridiano!” (Don’t ask me to explain.) Nico is the quiet one, for the most part. It could be the fact that he’s the newest member, or is perhaps the most introspective of the quartet, or too smart to get so involved in a lot of our childish banter, but the main reason for his silence is often his incredible dependence on coffee. Often one can find him nodding off even to himself talking, but put a latte in his hand and it’s like Pop-Eye, spinach, and crack. He’s the member that would fall asleep five minutes before stage time, but also the last to fall asleep during our late-night drunken conversations about “making an imprint on this universe” that seems to happen almost by tradition. Toss all of us on a plane with each other for 9 hours (3 of them layover), a baggage claim, a crowded cab, and a standard double room, you’ve got the recipe for either charm or chaos.



I suppose we walk the thin line. Even with our split personalities we’ve managed to get by without any beef that lasts longer than a half hour. Quick to squash insecurities, or doubts, I guess it’s the benefit of being in a group of poets who always seem to want to “get things off of their chests,” as opposed to, say, a mime troupe. Now that’s a situation that I’m sure has its share of communication problems. We’ve learned where certain people excel, or adapt, or straight up make more sense in a situation than others. Ruby hails the cabs. Duh. Upon entering the hotel lobby for the first time, it’s always a game checking in, figuring out which name it’s under this time. First we try “Reservation for iLL-Literacy.” Then Adriel Luis. Then Luis Adriel. Then the name of the organizer. Eventually, we figure it out, and I swear each time we get the hotel key in my head I go, “Wow…it actually worked.” It almost feels like a scheme, how I’m able to finagle a key to kick it with my three best friends for a couple of nights.

We take the elevator to our respective floor, and find our respective room. Insert the key, and a mutter of “Oooh, I wonder what it’s gonna look like” and “I hope it’s nice” and “I hope it’s as nice as San Diego’s” ensues. No matter what, we’ve so far always managed to have at least one of us say “Wow...” once we walk into the room. We’ve been blessed to not yet find ourselves in a hotel room with cockroach infestations or questionable stains on the walls. Hey, we’re still new at this touring thing, it’s only been a year. Anything with two beds and a toilet pretty much deserves a “wow.” We then proceed to break into our roles again. I check to see if there’s wireless internet. Ruby sighs and says “Ughh, I need to take a shower.” Dahlak says “Oh shit...did I leave my phone in the girl’s car?” (“Geez Louise!”) and Nico takes a nap. It’s a beautiful thing.



On VH1’s Behind the Music: New Edition they talked about how on the “Home Again” tour each of the members took their own separate tour buses to the gigs. And I hear a lot that bands are most susceptible to breaking up while on tour. So maybe we’ve got it backwards. We’ve only been in a studio together a handful of times. Pretty much the only time we ever get to all see each other at the same time is while on the road, there’s no time for any foolishness. And that’s probably what I love most about these trips. Even though the lights can make you feel like a star, and the high of an audience of thousands clung to every syllable is exhilarating, and purpose can be excavated from a single fan’s words of encouragement, I really really look forward to spending time with my crew. Because even though we might be our own characters, and clash when someone’s in the shower for too long, or wants to fade himself up real quick though we’re running late, each person knows exactly what everyone else needs to get them through the weekend. After performing “Jubilee” at the MAASU banquet in Champagne on Saturday, Dahlak turned to me and said, “Ay yo, man, you really speak to your people. I think it’s really good that you’re here to speak to them.”

And I can gas myself up watching Fade to Black for days, but in the end, that’s all I ever wanted to do, speak to my people. It seems during this time where life is moving at the speed of light, the best perspective comes from those going just as fast, and who are just as willing to crash and burn with you.