Randy Weston (Jazz Standard 04.06.18)

"Is this the Republican jazz club?"  She asked as she stormed out.

"I'm sorry?"  Said the maitre d, unclear of what to make of her outburst.

"No you're not!" she yelled as she began climbing the steps.

As the lady disappeared around a bend in the staircase a clatter of wood against linoleum exploded over a series of startled shouts.  The guest of honor's daughter descended, looking only slightly frazzled.

"How are you Ms. Weston?"

"Tired.  Sorry I'm late."  She replied as I lead her into the darkened room full of hand percussion and ostinato piano. 

We came to find out that the first lady had taken a swing at Ms. Weston with her cane and that Ms. Weston had swung back with the bouquet of flowers she'd brought for her father's birthday.  A few minutes later I re-entered the club to see her leaning inconspicuously against a column in the middle of the room where I had left her.

"I don't want to disturb anyone.  I'll take a seat after this song."