Greetings from West Palm Beach!

It's the morning of NPS Day 1 down here, and poets hungover from last night's welcome party are filtering oh-so-slowly into the hotel lobby. Probably about half the family arrived yesterday and you can still see long-lost-friends catching sight of one another for the first time and racing across rooms to embrace.

There's a lot of love here, as usual: I assume the team is having a great time, since I lost track of them last night at the bar while I was geeking out with the NPS score nerd posse. Oz was up early today, despite being remarkably social last night, but I left Max and Sean sacked out in the room. I haven't seen Brian and Carlos for some hours; it seemed like a good idea at registration to give them their own room (when they immediately split for the bar upon arrival at the hotel), but I might have to re-evaluate as the week continues. :)

The city has treated us well thus far; the welcome party was at an Irish pub, O'Shea's (hilarious for those of us coming from New England), with reasonably-priced Guiness and plenty of room for poets to get rowdy. I've heard a rumor that bars down here have no specified closing time, so I guess they just keep serving as long as it's profitable for them to do so... Which I guess it must be, since the old downtown area we're established at is a near-ghost town.

On my venue-scouting walk yesterday, I really enjoyed the neighborhood... But even on a five-block walk, I must have counted half a dozen venues shuttered and closed. On a Monday at 7:00, there was hardly anyone walking the pleasant, brick-lined streets, and dozens of little eateries and shops were already closed for the evening. O'Shea's was jumping, though, and as hard as the economy has hit here, the venues are thrilled to have our presence and our money.

We talk a lot every year about how much audience a city has to give us, but this year I think everyone realizes how much we have to give this city. Blowing $20 at a bar has a positive, charitable feel it's never had before. I only hope we can draw some local crowd, too, both for our own purposes and to remind folks how sweet the old downtown neighborhood is.

Not too much on the plate for today: we've already registered, taken care of orientation, and 4/5 of the guys have frolicked on the beach in their brand-new Speedos (pictures forthcoming, I promise). Oz has insisted that he will not wear his until we make semi-finals, but it's no joke that we have a tough pair of bouts to survive in order to make that happen.

Practice this afternoon, then our 7:00 bout at the Lounge with Madison, Houston, and the Nuyorican. Since I'm not competing this year, I'll be working the late bout, then working scoring committee with Bill MacMillan, but you can be sure the results will be popping up via text message all over Boston.

I see Manchester strutting into the lobby now, which can only mean they are about to nab me for some early morning whiskey... I'd better get some breakfast before the Portland poets admonish me further for my behavior. And maybe find that beach.

More tomorrow. Think good thoughts for us tonight!

--simone
Simone Beaubien, SlamMaster