We regret to inform you that the electrical system that powers all trains along the Northeast corridor is down. As a result, all trains between Boston and DC will be delayed at least 3 hours. If you can reschedule your trip for Sunday, February 10th, we suggest that you do so.

Oh, heck no!!! Unlike most of the other shindigs during NBA All-Star weekend, Jordan's soiree was an invitation-only event and slated as THE PARTY. Moreover, my cute dark garnet outfit was not going to waste. We had to get to Philly! Hmmm, how else to skin the cat?

Two hours later, Ya and I pulled up outside the Franklin Institute to give a courtesy visit to the HBO-sponsored P.Diddy joint (couldn't let those comp VIP tickets go unused ;-)). Upon entering, I instantly knew I was at a gathering that was more urban than urbane - the numerous 300 lb, 6'4" security guards were a hint as was the plainclothes police officers that gave Ya and I full-body pat downs. The officers were also careful to inspect my camera, microcassette recorder and every nook and cranny of my handbag. I almost asked sisterofficer whether she was about to read me my rights, but I saw her 9 mm and figured mouthing off wasn't prudent ;-).

As suspected, the Franklin Institute was primarily filled with scantily clad women and ogling, profiling men. And P. Diddy's production crew did little to hype the atmosphere - a little promotional signage here; a looping B-roll there; woofers everywhere and strobe lights thrown in for effect. But for the artistic beauty of the Franklin Institute and a DJ spinning hot tunes, the party would have been a major dud. Not our scene, so Ya and I made our stay short. Once around the dance floor, twice around the VIP area, a few snapshots and we were off to get jiggy with Jumpman23 and Hidden Beach Recordings at Rococo.

As traffic crawled along Market Street, a 3-mile trip across town took 45 minutes. Hopes of sashaying into Rococo were quickly dashed as security announced that Rococo's owners wouldn't permit any additional entrants due to overcrowding. Oh, heck no!!! The cute red outfit, the $200 limo ride, the hottest joint during All-Star and the possibility of having to go home without getting in - not The Kid and not that night.

After Ya and I positioned ourselves near the front of the throng, I caught a glimpse of my buddy D working the door 50 feet away. Hesitant to pull rank (but determined to gain entry), I decided to "lean on the shield." Having left D's cell number in my Palm in NYC, I was forced to use old school methods to get her attention. Harkening back to my undergrad days, I filled my lungs with O₂ and let out a hair-raising "SKEE WEE" and started waving wildly. (Again, my profound apologies to the unfortunate folk standing near me that night ;-)).

With my press status verified, Ya and I managed to get in just as saxophonist Mike Phillips prepared to take the stage. It was fitting that our arrival coincided with Big Tigger's introduction of Mike Phillips. After all, both Tigger and Phillips are featured on interactive CDs included with purchases of the Air Jordan XVII shoe - and that's what the party was so subtly about ;-).

The Jordan Brand event on February 9th marked the availability of Air Jordan's latest in retail outlets nationwide. To fuel sales of Air Jordan XVII, Nike has creatively packaged the shoe in a silver briefcase with an enclosed CD that offers behind-the-scenes footage of the sneaker's design and development process. In addition to the shoe unveiled on February 9th with its white leather upper and blue, silver and black accents, there will be 3 additional versions of the Air Jordan XVII released this year, each in a different color.

Under guard and behind a velvet rope at the rear of Rococo was an athletic shoe aficionado's dream - a display featuring 17 years of Air Jordans. A natural draw to those with Y-chromosomes, the rear room also offered a welcome respite from the jam-packed main room and the smoked-filled, dimly lit VIP second level. Despite the ample elbow room in the rear and exclusivity above, most preferred the close comfort of the main room where all were treated to outstanding performances by Hidden Beach artists, including Phillips, the duo Kindred and a cameo by Darius Rucker (sometimes referred to as Hootie minus the Blowfish).

Hidden Beach, best known for artist Jill Scott, is well suited to continue its chart-topping ways with its new slate of artists who kept the crowd throbbing with up-tempo jazz and soul-stirring R&B. While the evening was not without its share of celebrity sightings, inappropriately attired women and excessively bejeweled men, the gathering was more about an upscale and sophisticated group of folk enjoying good music and each other's company in a milieu designed to appeal to each sense. The music set the tone; the open bar and complimentary eats sated the crowd; cigar smoke wafted throughout the room; and muted Technicolor lights bounced off the pastel walls, high-vaulted ceilings, columns and cornices.

Even as the last notes of Kindred's tunes faded and the bar closed for the evening, the crowd still buzzed with lively conversations continuing unabated. Most were slow to budge - even as the glaring housed lights were turned on to signal the event's conclusion. Folk were just content to bask in the glow of the evening a little while longer.

Taught at a young age not to overstay our welcome, Ya and I made swift exits. Good thing we did, as the unfortunate stragglers probably missed out on the Jordan brand gift bag replete with Hidden Beach CDs and an individually numbered ceramic replica of the original Air Jordan shoe. And while the trip home wasn't without its interesting moments, it wasn't nearly as compelling as the adventure south. In any event, I think I'll start planning now for All-Star 2003 in Hotlanta.M

February 2002

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