Lightning (Almost) Strikes (Almost) Twice!
That doesn't matter, though. Also, I didn't win, and no lovely young women pronounced me "manly" this time. That also doesn't matter. Here's what I remember.
1.) I was picked tenth. (They pick ten names out of a hat, and if you're not picked, tough luck. So it's always a risk.) When my name was called, cheers went up! I have friends and fans!
2.) After the show, one woman came up to me and said, "I'm so glad you went. I'd heard rumors about some new guy who was really good." I've gone only once before, and there are already rumors about me! Yay!
3.) Finally---and this means more than anything---the two greatest storytellers in Manhattan (James Braley and Andy Christie) ---both congratulated me and said I was, and I quote, "great." I was simply flabbergasted.
4.) What's more, Braley had great advice. He said, "You stepped on several of your laugh lines, and I could tell you weren't expecting them to laugh so much." True dat! "Relax a little on time, and consider your persona. In fact, you should get the tape of tonight's performance so you can see how others see you." Apparently they tape every show. (James, if you're reading this, thanks for the tips!)
Ever since then---which has actually been quite a while, if you consider what a long ride back it is from the East Village to Washington Heights---I've been coming to the conclusion that I must be a funny storyteller. Not in the sense of telling funny stories but in the sense of telling stories funnily. After all, if people are laughing at my jokes out of proportion to their actual humor content---and they are, two out of two times---then they must be reacting to the way I say relatively simple things. I must leave a lot of irony in the air. And I need to accommodate that the next time I tell a story so that I'm good on time. I need to see those tapes.
Tonight I'm hoping to go to Rev. Jen's Anti-Slam, which is the best deal in town ($3 cover, BYOB.) I hope it's as fun as I hear.