My first stand up experience

Have I ever mentioned the first time I ever tried stand up? Oh course I haven't. I checked my blog history. Not a trace of that story.

It was back in college. I wanted to give it a go, so I wrote out some shit and grabbed a 5-minute spot as an opener for some road comedian. A road comedian basically makes his or her living traveling to different venues doing stand up. He does a set, drinks some beer, and heads off to the next bar or hotel. It's a lonely life. This particular location was a patio bar and grill. It was a warm spring night, I believe. The kind where magic can happen. The MC did a few minutes to warm up the audience before bringing me on deck. I was prepared and I brought some friends along to watch me. My girlfriend at the time, her friend from out of town, my best friend, and a few other pals. I was nervous, but I felt optimistic. I felt I was going to do well. After all, I'm a fucking funny guy.

So the MC called me up. I swallowed a mouthful of Corona and strided on out there all confident-like. I heard some guy off to the side say to his date, "Hey, he's already funny." He said it in all seriousness. I was doing great before I even planted my feet on stage! I approached the mike, opened my mouth to deliver my introduction and... nothing. My mind wiped clean. It was as blank as the face of The Blank from Dick Tracey.

I forgot everything I had prepared. I was frozen stiff. My mouth could barely shape words. All I could muster was a hollow "Woooooah-wuuuhhh." But I couldn't just pee my pants and leave. That's so overplayed. I knew I had to stick it out and pick up whatever pieces dropped out from my brain. Somehow I remembered some of my material and stammered it out as best I could. Not a laugh in the audience, by the way. I'm sure you've figured that out by now. Barely of tremor. Everything felt stiff and still and hours long. Oh wait. One guy said, "You're doing fine," when I bleated out some half-formed joke about not doing well. I'd rather have been heckled.

Well before my five minute slot was up, I got the light from the back of the house. That light means, "get the hell off stage." I did. I crept back to my seat and ordered another beer. To my credit, I was a good sport about it and laughed it off when the MC took the mike and mildly mocked me. The next comic went up (the 'middle,' as they call it in the biz), did his thing, and he in turn was followed by the headliner. Some fat fellow in leather who did an hour. Ten minutes was about how the ladies have orgasms on his motorcycle when he revs it up. Classy to the last. Steve Martin would have been proud.

I stuck out the rest of the evening and was ever so glad my friends departed. They were embarrassed for me, I could tell, but were supportive. I had good friends. Still do! I avoided stand up for almost a year after that. I was so mortified I couldn't even think back on that night without feeling like I was going to vomit.

But I tried again. I took up a guitar and devised a character and worked my bit to perfection. I went up at a local open mic and totally rocked it. The MC there asked the audience if I should come back again and they cheered. I was flying high. Since then I've done stand up probably three or four more times. But I was never interested enough to keep developing material and showcasing myself. I preferred sketch and improv.

Nowadays, my sentiments have flipped. I like the rawness and singularity of stand up. It's all up to the one person on stage who writes and performs her set. She ultimately decides her comedic fate at that moment. And there's so much brute honesty in stand up. I appreciate it so much more than I ever have in my life.

That's why I'm getting back into it a bit more. I've experienced more and I've found some renewed anger and wryness in myself that wasn't there years ago. I can hitch that to my wagon and hit the comedic trail like never before.

If I ever bomb like that again, I hope I'll be more aware of myself and take that gut-punching moment as a challenge. As I tell my friend Scott, "you gotta go up there and take the hit." There's something inspiring in that statement. I look forward to taking a hit again... I just hope the hit is telegraphed.