Tales from the road
I've been getting the itch to do some standup again. It's been a little while since my last show and I've been really focusing more on acting and writing the past few months so standup has taken a little backseat to all of that. For some reason, lately I've been feeling the need to do some shows. I'm going to do some sets when I go back home for Christmas and I'm even going to be going to Oklahoma for a few gigs in February/March so I'm looking forward to that.
I got off "the road" after doing standup professionally for 10 years back in 2003 or so. I moved out here from Boston and knew what I wanted my end goal to be...to work as an actor. I was burnt out from all the travel and just standup itself. I still did shows, but gone were the days (and years) of 250 shows a year.
All of this got me to thinking about road stories. Those tales you tell of gigs gone bad to pass the time on an 8 hour car trip to Caribou, Maine. The one that follows is my good friend (and kickass comic) Rev. Tim McIntire's favorite road story of mine:
It was back in the winter of 1998 when I got a call from a local booker to feature (comedy show hierarchy follows as such: headliner, feature/middle, opener/host) a 
comedy show at this little place in Houlton, Maine. Being the whore that I am, I took it. The money was "eh" but I had the weekend open on my schedule. It's about a 6 hour drive from Boston to Houlton (it's literally at the END of Route 95. You go to the end of the highway and take a left. And then it's COMEDY!) and I was asked if I could pick up the opener, Pat Hicks, on the way. Usually it stands that the opening act will drive the other acts and other such hazing rituals of being in the standup fraternity, but I didn't really care. Pat lived in Portland, it was on the way and I liked him well enough, so at least it was company for the ride.
I pick up Pat at the Home Depot and the minute his ass touches car seat, he's off to the races, complaining about how he can't believe he's opening this show. He felt his ample talents would be much better suited to middling the show. This is normal piss and moan for comics but two things really bothered me: (1) That he took the gig in the first place, knowing damn well what slot on the show he was accepting. Very rarely do you book a road gig without knowing your position on the show. You make sure you know moreso for any monetary differences than prestige. And (2) I was middling this show! So basically he's telling me (in my car as I'm carting his ass up to Houlton) that he's a better comic than I am and should be above me in the show.
After a few hours of the barrage of complaints, I simply turned down the radio and said, "Pat, would you feel better if I hosted the show? Then you could middle." He was relieved, and stated how he just felt the show would work so much better that way. In reality, a comic bitches about his position on the show for approximately three reasons: (1) the aforementioned monetary difference (and that was not going to change), (2) his ego and (3) they're afraid to open the show because they don't feel they'll have a strong enough set and don't want to warm the crowd up by "taking the bullet" (see all the fancy insider lingo you get by reading my posts?). Since Pat had revealed to me that he had taken a 6 month layoff, I assumed it was a combination of all three of the above.
We pull into the hotel (conveniently attached to the "comedy club") and it turns out that Pat and I are sharing a room and Al Ducharme, the headliner, has his own room. No big whoop. We meet up with Al and I tell him the change in lineup and I go up to start the show. Now, you don't do the road a long time and not learn all of the little tricks you can do to get a crowd on your side and really make it tough on the guy following you. I have to admit, in a moment of weakness and one that I'm not terribly proud of, I pretty much did them all. If Pat thought he was better suited to follow me, then I was gonna make him work for it. I did crowd work...lots. Made sure to hit every table around the stage. I went a little over the time I said I was going to do. I pandered and I made sure that every freakin' person in that audience loved me. I don't think I even did any of my jokes (which should REALLY make them love me! heh) and then I introduced Pat.
He got onstage, did a joke and it got a lukewarm laugh. "OK," I thought, "maybe he'll be fine". And then...it started. After a few jokes and some decent laughs he decided it was time for crowd work. With all of the people I've already done crowd work with. And he tried to play off the jokes I had already made with them. Bad idea. They had already bonded with me and didn't feel like treading over the same material with this new guy (and it's really like that..for that first couple of minutes onstage during your set, you are the new guy. They don't know you and don't quite trust you. It takes a few minutes, sometimes an entire set, to get them to warm to you and connect).
He started with the standard "where are you from". Nothing. Silence. "Um, ok, so where are YOU from?". Tumbleweeds blowing across the stage. And he. Wouldn't. Let. It. Go. He just kept on trying to work the crowd and they started to not just dislike him, but actually hate him. As a cry of "you suck" came wafting out of the audience Pat sunk to the levels we are all taught never to sink. In the cry of the defeated comic he replied "uh, yeah? Well how about you come up here and try it?" to which the heckler came back with "I don't wanna, but I wish you'd sit down". Ouchies.
It was at this point that Al leaned over to me and whispered, "this is getting to the point where it could affect our show."
And so it went for an agonizing 30 minutes, relentless and getting worse by the minute. It all came crashing down when he tried to close on some stupid stunt where you put one arm inside your shirt and hold the empty sleeve with the other hand. Then you make that back and forth motion so it looks like you have an alien popping out of your stomach. Pat's convinced he "wrote" this bit, but I seem to remember doing it a lot when I was in 6th grade.
He ends it and I go back onstage to get the crowd back and bring up Al. I do a few jokes and now they aren't laughing much so I said "hey, you guys loved me 30 minutes ago, don't blame me for that." That got a laugh and got them on their way to be ready for Al. I went back to the bar to watch his set and I see Pat, just huddled over a beer, at the end of the bar. At times like these it's best to just let someone sit and suss it out themselves...also it allows you the luxury of not getting the stink of flop on you by association.
Al finishes strong and I go up to end the show. In the meantime, Pat his vanished. We get paid and head back over the hotel. As I approach my room, I see the flickering blue light of a television and I open the door, only to see Pat rolled up in the fetal position, looking horrified. In what would not be called one of my most sympathetic moments, I uttered "Oh my God, Al come here!! Look at this!!". We both shared a chuckle and I asked Pat why he just disappeared at the end of the show and why he didn't just leave after his set. He said "I wanted to wait until the crowd was distracted because I was afraid they would give me an applause break when I left". That might have been the funniest thing he said all night.
I'm brushing my teeth and out of the corner of my eye, I see him stagger out of his bed and try to put his jeans on, almost topping over in the process. He says to me, like a beaten dog " can I have the keys to your car?"
"Why? Are you going to kill yourself?"
"No, I just want to get my candy." Oh geez, how pathetic. I tossed him my keys and went to sleep.
The next morning we were up at 5AM as I had an afternoon gig back in Beantown to hit. We load up, get some gas and some coffee and there's silence, but for the radio. As we turn onto Route 95 and prep for the 6 hour journey back, I lower the radio volume and turn to my passenger.
"Hey Pat...where are you from"
It was going to be a long ride home.
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