Open Mike

I stood alone. Beside me was a glass of water, sitting on a stool. Behind me was a fake brick wall. In front of me, sitting ever so quietly and staring ever so intently, were no less than two hundred persons. The lights were hot and bright, and I could see their shapes, but not their faces. Probably a lot like a meeting of the Illuminati.

    “So how’s everybody doing tonight?” I said for the second time.

    “Not Bad. Except for the echo in here.” One guy says, and he got a good laugh from the others at his table.

    “Yeah!“ Said another guy. He didn’t get a laugh at all. By the time the night was over, Yeah Guy and I would have something in common.

    I’d never done this before, but I could already tell this audience wasn’t going to be gentle with me. The only one of them out of the whole lot who might be on my side was the waitress, Alka. She was from Poland originally, but had been working at this bar for as long as I’d been coming here. It was she who had told me about their open mike comedy nights, and convinced Mike the bartender to let me have a try. She is also the only woman who I’ve had sex with twice, and even that was just because she also works as an escort. In my defence, I paid for it only one of those times.

    I tried to look for her, because in that moment I would have liked for nothing more than a reassuring glance or even a thumbs up. I would have paid money for some moral support like that. But I couldn’t see her. All I could sort of see was some movement that kind of suggested where she might be. So I did the best I could.

    At least my routine was well rehearsed. My first joke would have gone like this:

    “Anyone out there who is really stupid? No? So it’s just me then?  Because this morning I was already half way to work before I remembered I am unemployed, and a virgin.”

    Pretty good, right? Sounds professional. It’s the key to all of it. I learned it on the internet. You see, the most essential ingredients to comedy are conflict and stupidity. But not when it happens to you. Your own troubles don’t make you laugh. What people will do is laugh at other people’s conflicts and stupidity. It’s cathartic, at least if they are given an excuse to do it. I was inviting them to do so, and that would free them from their reservations. Liquor helps, also. So I should have had my bases covered both ways. The point is: under controlled circumstances, the more absurd you are, the more people are supposed to like you.

    Anyway, I began, as you will no doubt be unsurprised to learn, by saying:

    “Anyone out there who is really stupid?”

    I paused briefly, as though waiting for a response. But before I could continue, One Guy chimes in with:

    “Nope. Just you.”

    This was basically the same follow up as what I had intended to make and, as I anticipated, this got a big laugh.  The whole situation should have still been salvageable, if only I’d been allowed to continue. I was not.

    “Yeah, guy!” said Yeah Guy. Again no one laughed, but many saw it as a signal to shout out their own opinions. They were not kind and they did not stop. I didn’t even finish the joke. I couldn’t have even remembered it, not that I could have made myself heard over the shouting. There was only one thing left for me to do. I walked off of that stage. Jeers and heckles rang in my ears.

    Backstage, I quivered in a chair. The nights’ other comedian, one Bologna J. Infections, which I assume was his stage name, stood nearby.

    “Well, that didn’t go so well.” I said.

    “Are you kidding? I killed out there.” Said Bologna.

    “Not you.” I said.

    “Oh, right. Okay. I didn’t hear your act, but I bet you killed out there!”

    “No, that’s kind of the exact opposite of what I did. If anyone from that audience gets their hands on me, I may yet be killed, but I myself did not do any killing.”

    This admission seemed to perplex Infections. He stared at the floor with his thumb on his lips, as though engaged in deep thought, for quite some time. Suddenly his eyes popped open and, with a single motion, he snapped his fingers and pointed at me. He had deduced that tonight had been my first time.

    “Oh, Man! I feel for ya, buddy. It can be brutal, lemme tell ya.”

    “Yeah? You bombed your first time, too?”

    “What, me? No, I killed. But I’ve seen it happen to lots of other guys. Let me do you a favour and give you some advice. Okay, the most important thing is to have confidence. Start with you best joke. Use your second best joke last. Don‘t get scared and start rushing through your set. And if you do get nervous, go with the oldest trick in the book. Imagine everybody‘s in their underwear. You know, unless your performing at an elementary school. That‘s the wrong time for that.”

    “I don‘t know if I can do any of that. It‘s sounds easy, but when I was up there, I just froze.”

    “Okay. You could always quit. Alotta guys who should quit, don‘t. Maybe it’s their pride, or because it’s their dream. But all they do is make it hard for the guys who are good to get the gigs.  This isn’t for everybody. No shame in knowing your own strengths.”

    Alka stopped by just then. She gave me a hug. She said how sorry she was about how the show went, and how the audience were just a bunch of jerks, and how three fistfights had since broken out. She’d also brought me a bottle of Spirytus Rektyfikowany, the national pastime of Poland. “96% volume“ the label declared in big letters.

    “What’s that supposed to mean? It’s 4% empty?” said Bologna, and we all laughed at that. This guy was good. Good enough to know my chances in this profession. I took a swig and decided to take his advice. Time to know my own strengths.

    I excused myself and stepped aside with Alka. Encouraged by her sympathy, I suggested when she was finished at the bar, maybe she could come back to my place. She shrugged and said that she would, but it would be about an hour and a half before she could go. I told her that was fine. She turned to leave, but before she’d taken a half step, she turned back to me.

    “You know that your not getting paid for your, uh, show, right? That was just a little favour Mike did for you.” she said.

    “Oh, um, right. Yeah, no. Of course.” I said, not having been sure whether there had been any money at stake or not. I guess I thought there would have been a little something for my time and effort.

    “I‘m just making sure you know, just in case that changes anything for you. You know, about later? Do you still want me to come over?” They way she looked at me told me that this was a very serious question. I had to think fast.

    “Sure I do. Oh god, you know what? I just remembered, I’ve got to get to work really early tomorrow. I really should get going right away. “

    “It‘s cool. Some other time.” She said.

    I slipped out the back door, catching a glimpse of Bologna J. Infections getting chatty with Alka as it closed behind me. I wondered if I should really go home, or head over to some other bar. I didn’t really have to get up early. I didn’t even have to go to work. I didn’t even have a job. At least I wasn’t really a virgin.

    I stood there a moment, looking up and down the alley. Not a soul in sight. I realized that somehow, in spite of the disastrous events of the night, the night was really ending much as it had began. I stood alone.