so the club i performed at last night works like this: every 4 weeks you get the opportunity to perform for 3 minutes. afterward, if your name gets called, it means the owner liked you and you’re moving up—you’re entered into the club’s regular rotation of 6 minute slots, and if you do well in those, you move up from there until you’re rich and famous with your own HBO special.
yeah, kid, that’s how it works. it’s easy.
last night was a mixed bag. i had a solid set at the club—got decent laughs, which wasn’t easy because the room was full of comics. not bad. but it didn’t matter because after the show, nobody’s name got called. nobody was moving up. NOBODY. it was brutal. so i left.
i walked out to the parking lot where i ran into a comedian who’d been in the show. he’d had a strong set. he told me that he’d moved up, and he was shocked that i hadn’t. “you had a great set,” he said. i was confused—i told him that i hadn’t heard my name called and he replied, “oh, sometimes they don’t call names. if that happens, you just go up to the owner and ask if you made it.”
WHAT THE HELL???? NOBODY TOLD ME THAT. how was i supposed to know that??? how were any of us supposed to know that???
i sprinted across sunset boulevard and back to the club like a maniac, praying that the owner might move me up.
the club was packed. the next show was about to start. i found the owner in a corner talking to a tall brown-haired dude. i walked up to them and waited—then saw that the dude was kevin nealon. holy shit. i love that guy. but i was on a mission. i waited until nealon paused to take a breath, then gave him a little push on his back. he glanced at me and stepped aside.
“hi!” i blurted to the owner, “i was in the earlier show and am hoping that i moved up—”
the owner shrugged. “sorry. i don’t remember you,” he said. “come back in 4 weeks.”
i felt repulsive and idiotic and was pretty sure that i was about to die as i waved goodbye and backed away. I AM AN IDIOT.
at least i’d touched kevin nealon.
his shirt had felt expensive. i think it was camelhair—hairy but soft.
or maybe that was just my palm.