by Harris Bloom
Ever thought you'd like to try performing stand-up comedy? Maybe you've had this fantasy version of trying stand up in your head: you try it once in some little dive packed with an appreciative audience well versed in twentieth century superstars as well as lesser known comedy greats. After the gig you all become great friends, trading favorite lines from Steve Martin albums and early Richard Prior routines, or volleying favorite Emo Philips bits. The next night you play your second gig in a 3,000 seat theater. Right, well, fantasies are dangerous that way. Welcome to the hard working, night-in-night-out realities of "trying standup" -- Harris Bloom will be checking in regularly as he works his way into the New York comedy scene with this new regular feature. Here is the first installment of "There's Nothing Funny About Stand-Up Comedy" by Harris Bloom. -- D.K.
Open mic (n) - A live show where performers get 5-8 minutes to perform on stage, usually in front of an audience solely of other performers, who are there for their own 5-8 minutes of stage time. The audience remains largely silent because they are either worrying about their own set, busy writing new jokes or just don't want to encourage the person on stage in hopes that he/she quits.
Open mics are a comic's best friend and worst enemy. Okay, they aren't anyone's best friend; they can best be described as a necessary evil, especially for a "newbie" comic like myself (and one is a newbie in NY comedy for at least two years). Though I can't try out jokes to see if they are good, since laughs are few and far between, I can work on my timing and just try to get comfortable on stage (I have a fear of public speaking).
While open mics at comedy clubs usually have no "real" audience (i.e. non-comics), the ones at bars and/or restaurants do attract some curious patrons to watch. One of my favorite open mic experiences occurred a few months ago, downstairs, at a Mexican fast food joint called Maui Tacos.
The comics were thrilled that there was a table of six customers. Any open mic with civilians is a good open mic. The host, Tom, acknowledged them, asking each where they were from. No responses. They looked at each other, and then back to him. He tried again, this time slower.
"You guys aren't from around here, right?"
They nodded in various degrees.
"Good...we're getting somewhere." Tom looked at the table of comics seated in the back, for some sympathy, "So wheeeere aaaarrrrre yoooou froooom?"
With various accents came their replies...
"Hong Kong"
"Turkey"
"Tokyo"
"Ukraine"
"Honduras"
"Brazil"
"That's weird... how do you guys all know each other?" Tom asked.
They looked at each other but no one spoke.
"Umm, you guys didn't just randomly sit at the same table, did you? he joked.
Again, they just sat there, peered at each other, shrugged their shoulders and looked back at Tom.
"For Christ's sake...can ya meet me halfway here?" I laughed to myself, as Tom's frustration rose. He tried again. "Why are you here?"
The Brazilian spoke. "Eating."
"No, not here! I mean why are you sitting together!"
The Ukrainian spoke. "We eat."
"I know you're here to eat!" He said in mock anger, and then calmly added, "I'm asking, how you all know each other?"
"We have class next to this door," Turkey answered.
"Okay, now we're getting somewhere. What kind of class?"
"English," a few replied.
Tom looked at us, shrugged his shoulders and then proceeded to do his material to an audience of non-English speaking patrons.
