Despite my love for watching stand up comedy on Netflix, I’d never been to a comedy club. About a month ago Valentina and I went to the Broadway Comedy Club to rectify that. I now know what to expect from a comedy club: a two drink minimum and a guy warming up the crowd while we got to work on our two drink minimum.
There were jokes about being too tall, jokes about pedophilia, and jokes about being the least attractive sister. It seemed to fit the bill for amateur, but still funny, stand up comedy. There weren’t always sharp observations being made with Fran Lebowitz-style wit, but there were always a few good laughs.
I got called on by a comedian. That’s what happens when you sit front and center. It all started because he commented that I didn’t shout anything out, but clapped along to something that he said, unusual audience behavior apparently. I was two drinks minimum into the night to not freak out when I was called on in front of everyone. He asked me what sport I played in high school, the topic at hand, and I said that I ran cross country. This led to a joke about whether or not running even counts as a sport.
Watching stand-up has always made me think: I could do that, but why would I want to? I’m sure that I could whip up a few good jokes and anecdotes, being bright and silly, but the act of actually getting up on stage and trying to get a few laughs from strangers seems excruciating, especially for a girl who probably won’t even do karaoke. It isn’t even a case of stage fright. It’s a case of not wanting to learn if you’re funny or insightful or not. Sometimes, it’s better to just be convinced that you are funny in your day-to-day life with your peers than it is to seek out any other validation and know for sure.
I do respect the people who do get up on stage and try to make people laugh. Comedians are our modern-day court jesters, delivering lines about how messed up our world is, thanks to the people who run it, but sugar-coat it so that it’s a nice pill to swallow. They tell the truth, but in a way that’s palatable.
At least they do if they’re good at it.
The Tragic Queen,
Raquel
The Tragic Queen 