The Comedy Odyssey - Part 1 ("The RIGHT Way...")

If you've read the earlier entries, you know how my journey into stand-up comedy began: I made myself a bucket list in 2002 and decided to put "Do a comedy open mic" on it, I mentioned this a while back to my buddy Vlado, he said that he and I should get up and do it, I said okay. Just that simple. He did some research on local Sacramento comedy clubs, and we decided we would do this thing at Tommy T's Comedy and Dinner Theater in Rancho Cordova.

We set a date not too far distant, and both started working on our material. I, being a procrastinator, took my time. Not surprisingly, the date crept up fast (being right after the holidays). So I finally had to sit myself down and do some writing, and come up with 3-5 minutes of material. My problem with this was probably the opposite of most people. Your average person would sweat having to come up with a whole five minutes of comedy. For me, it was trying to figure out how I was going to squeeze everything I wanted to talk about into JUST five minutes. So I wrote, and I wrote, and I threw lots of stuff out for the sake of time. When I finally had the routine I wanted, it came out about two minutes too long. Oops. More editing. During this time, Vlado and I spotting each other became invaluable. I would send him my routine, he would send back notes with lots of edits. It was only because of his intervention that I was able to FINALLY (like, two nights before the show) get my bit running at right around five minutes. This would work just fine, providing no one laughed very much. Yes, I too enjoyed the irony.

Being big Facebook guys, we posted up our intentions on our respective pages. Another part of Vlado's plan was that we tell everyone we knew what we were doing, making it that much harder to back out of it. This worked nicely, because suddenly, we both had tons of friends and family expressing interest in coming to see it. There was now no turning back.

We decided it would be smart to go the open mic night at Tommy T's the week before we went on, both to get a feel for the place and to get a lot of our questions answered. We showed up just before they opened, and the manager there was extremely helpful and friendly. I got the chance to figure out the wheelchair logistics. The stage in this place had three big steps going up to it on either side. I realized right away that even though someone could probably lift me up those, doing so in front of a crowd of people would not only be a little humiliating for me, but pretty uncomfortable for them to watch. The place did have a backstage area, though. Still steps to deal with, but they could be handled out of eyesight, at least. I asked my chair-lifter of over thirty years, Tim, to hook me up on that, since he was going to be there anyway. Problem solved.

We ordered drinks and food and settled in to watch the show, and to see what we were in for. The very first comedian on stage--not to be unkind, just to be accurate here--was awful. He literally did not know what a punchline was. He just tried to tell funny stories...ones that never really came to a point. They weren't even jokes. The next comedian wasn't all that much better. Vlado and I looked at each other, both thinking the same thing: we could do this. If these guys could do it, certainly we couldn't do any worse. Even if we stunk, it appeared we'd be in good company. We left there, with a week left to go, feeling confident and relaxed. We were now able to visualize the location, which makes a big difference when you're rehearsing, and we also got to see how other people would be seeing us up there. It helps to realize that even though people might not be laughing aloud, that doesn't mean they hate your guts.

As the day approached, did I fear doing this? Not really. I've been a big self-help, Tony Robbins kind of guy the past couple of years, and I'm all about trying new things and ignoring the fear (and sometimes that even works). All my emotional turmoil came from working the routine. Many drafts later, I found that once I had a final product, I relaxed. Thinking I'd never be able to complete a routine was a much bigger fear than the idea of actually doing it. I did have fears about being able to memorize the routine; I haven't had to memorize anything in quite some time. But then, one night, I was in the kitchen and had my stopwatch handy, and was away from my written routine (still on the computer, unprinted). I decided to time out the opening part of my act, to check its duration and see if anything there could be shaved. I hit the stopwatch, and much to my surprise, I did my whole act from memory. How about that?

Once I had the final set locked, I spent that last couple of days before the big Tuesday rehearsing - making sure I had it memorized, trying different physical movements and voice inflections to maximize the funny, etc. I had it down. All I had to do, now, was to do the same thing on stage. Under a spotlight. In front of people. Hmmmm.

Tuesday came. Vlado offered me a ride with him and his girlfriend, but I decided I wanted to drive. I wanted to have that final bit of time during the commute to get my head straight, go over my act, and get my emotions in the right place of no-fear. I also made a decision before I left my apartment. I was going through my checklist, and one of the items was to print out my routine to take with me. I figured I'd take a final look at it at the club before going on, and keep it folded in my coat pocket as a backup in case I got brainlock up on stage. I pulled up the file, and was about to hit the print button, and I changed my mind. I remembered the previous week at Tommy T's, watching some guy sitting at a table before the show, looking a nervous wreck, pouring over his typed routine. He looked miserable. I also remembered seeing a couple of comedians on stage actually taking out their notes and setting them on the stool, and referring to them as they went along.

I didn't want to be any of these guys. I didn't want to be the first guy, minutes away from getting on stage and still not believing that I was ready or able to pull it off. And I definitely didn't want to be the other guys. The essence of stand-up comedy is to appear that you're just making up, on the spot, the stuff you're talking about up there. Notes completely destroy the illusion - and they also look very unprofessional. So I made the choice to leave my notes at home. As someone said to me later that night, I was like Cortes burning his ships. While this is historically inaccurate (he actually grounded them, and only nine out of the twelve, and you don't care about any of this, do you?), it serves as a pretty good metaphor. It was all or nothing for me at that point. And making that choice stoked my confidence even further.

After a drive through heavy commute traffic (which is why I left early), I got there, met up with Vlado and Arianna, and headed inside. We were a good hour early (they were open, but the show didn't start until later), so were able to get the table we wanted (the same one as the previous week). And soon, we were joined by a couple of important members of our crew: Tim, who would be my "stairmaster", and Rich, who had agreed to video the performances for us (being a professional in the industry, he was the perfect choice. I should point out that he was in TV. If I left it vague like that, you'd suspect I was talking about porn). Vlado got himself a beer. Me? I'd decided I didn't want to drink or eat anything until I was off stage. So I hadn't eaten all day. Probably not the best idea, but still seemed like the smarter choice.

We'd had several people have to cancel on us at the last minute, so we weren't sure how many of our people were actually going to show. Well, plenty did. Soon enough, my friends Barrie, Jessica and Kyle showed up. And Vlado's lifelong buddy Al joined us. Old school chums (as in old chums from school) began to appear. Dennis (the goalie!) and his friend Laura. Mike R. Kim (who I hadn't seen in about 25 years (if not more)). Roxanne. Chris K. and Tami. Larry and Tina. Rachel and Nichole. Robert. And John B. It's important to mention John because of something that happened later. Like Kim, I hadn't seen John in over two decades. John's ended up with M.S. in the years since, and uses an electric scooter. Not only was it great to see him again, but he inadvertently became part of a funny story. Also, my friend Joy, who hadn't been sure she was going to be able to make it, showed up with her mother and niece, both of whom I know. And even though they had to show up late, Chris B. and Emily made it just before the show started. The only one who looked like he wouldn't make it in time was A.T., who had a class that night that didn't get out until 8:30, but he said he planned to show up and hang out with us anyway, even if he missed us on stage.

And family was also in attendance. Arianna's family showed up to support Vlado. I had representation from all three sides of mine. My stepsister Wendy and her husband Rick showed up for the Bryant side. Chad came with Larry and Tina, repping the Moon side. And carrying the banner from the O'Connell side, my Uncle Stan and Aunt Kathy (and Stan's sister Dorothy) made the scene. This was brave of them because I warned that largely Mormon side of the family that these comedy shows can get quite vulgar and explicit, and that they could always just wait to see the video of my stuff later (which PROBABLY be less vulgar and explicit...), but they took their chances and braved Tommy T's anyway, which really meant a lot to me.

So we had ourselves a good showing of support, and were quite happy about that. Soon the lights went down and the show began. It was coming. I was more excited than nervous, but still felt some nerves with the anticipation. We had signed up on the list to be #'s 5 and 6 for the night, so we would let the crowd get a little warmed up first. And they did. There were two comedians up there who were really, really good - so much so that I decided not to bother worrying about winning the contest because one of them would surely take the prize. So that actually relaxed me some more.

The main manager (Lou) came over during one comic's bit and let me and Tim know that I was up next. This was our cue to head to the stage door to get ready to get backstage. Problem - the place filled up quite nicely, and the already close row between tables that led there was filled with people. We had to clank and bash and "excuse me" our whole way there, knocking chair aside, but finally made it. This was the biggest stress of the night for me, but only because I was so afraid that we were making a lot of noise and distracting the comic up on stage. He didn't seem to notice, thankfully.

Once that guy finished up, the MC - Ellis Rodriguez, a great comedian that Vlado and I had met the week before - got up on stage to do his between-comics jokes, and that meant is was time to head in. We got backstage, and Tim easily got me up the extra-tall stairs (three decades of experience makes that happen), and he headed back down, leaving me there behind a black curtain, waiting to hear my name. I could see some of the audience from back there. I went into kind of a zen state. I didn't want to be afraid. I didn't want to be nervous. I wanted to relax, have a good time, radiate confidence, and do my routine just as I'd practiced it so many times. The only concern on my mind then was not wanting to run over my time and get management ticked at me (as management is the one who decides the contest winners, after all).

Ellis's bit went quick, and then I heard my name, and the applause. Go-time. I rolled out into the spotlight. I had asked Ellis beforehand to drop the mic stand for me, and he did so. Unfortunately, turns out it was TOO low, and I realized quickly that I was going to have to lean over to speak into it for that portion of my act that required a stand (I'd be removing it at some point for the final part of my routine). So I took a breath, leaned in, and began.

And I wasn't nervous. I felt so relaxed, in fact, that I even broke script and improvised something right up front, making a joke having something to do with the strange set-up of the floor (they had roped off the whole area in front of the stage for floor painting, so all the tables were gone). And I went into my act. Now if you've never been on stage, you haven't experienced the strange kind of time compression that happens. You know how during an accident or when you're starting to take a fall, everything kind of goes into slow motion? This is the opposite. This period of time kind of just vanishes. You go into autopilot. This is why rehearsing your act is so important; if you're going on autopilot, you'd damned well better have your route programmed in. I did, and before I knew it, my time was over. Only after did it occur to me that I had never seen "the light". There's a light, which I now know is up by the bar (didn't realize until I was starting to go up that I'd never bothered to find out where the light they told us about was), the goes on solid red when you're down to a minute left, and starts blinking white if your time is up and you need to (and I quote) get the hell off the stage. Had I gone over? I had no idea. I just knew I heard cheering and was leaving the stage as Ellis came back on.

It had felt really good, that act I had just done, but I had no way to know if it really HAD gone well...since I could barely remember any of it. My first sign that it had was Tim, meeting me at the stairs, quite excited, whisper/shouting, "Dude, you killed!". Oh...killed is good. In comedy. Right on. That made me feel better. I can't really remember what Tim and I discussed going down the stairs. The rush was still jamming up my head. So much so that I didn't realize until later that Ellis was on stage talking about me at that time. Still don't know what he said, since I still don't have the full video yet. Let's hope it wasn't, "Could the rest of you comics tonight please not go seven minutes over your time like O'Connell did? Did he NOT see the blinking light?".

Second sign was when we came out the stage door, and Vlado came up. Vlado was getting ready to go up, and was heading to the stairs at stage right, and like Tim, he looked really, really jazzed and whispered, "Dude, you nailed it!" Okay. Nailing is good, too. Killing and nailing. I was feeling pretty sure that my good feelings about the performance weren't just all in my head. We then headed back through the thin, thin row of tables, but this time, didn't have to ask people to move. They all got up. And several shook my hand, and said that that had been great. That was cool. But cooler still was getting to the and of that aisle, and realizing the person sitting alone at the last table was A.T. He had managed to arrive and get inside RIGHT before I went on. That made my night. I really wanted him to be there for this. I was quite glad they'd started the show a little late.

Vlado got called up. And called up badly, I should add. Ellis Rodriquez impressively butchered his name. Vlado had written his name (with his pilot title in mind, as he was going to be doing pilot humor) as "First Officer Vladimir Zeravica". Ellis had trouble reading it and pronounced the first part "FIST officer" and then did things to the pronunciation of Vlado's name that shouldn't be done to a barnyard animal. But that was his cue, and, decked out in suit and tie, Fist Officer Vlado took the stage.

Vlado HIT IT. I'm not going to get into details, as I don't want to give spoilers (we plan to have the video of both our performances up soon), but as someone who knew Vlado's routine inside and out from reviewing all the drafts, I can tell you he was ON it. He, too, even managed a little improv in the middle (cocky bastards, aren't we?). The jokes in there that were my favorites did really well, which made me feel all smart for betting on the right ones. It was as though he held the whole audience in his...fist? (See what I did there? In comedy, we call that a "throwback". Okay, I totally just made that up. I've been in comedy for just over a week. Like I really know all the lingo by now...). He finished on the perfect groaner joke (in a good way), and as he told me soon after, he, too, had NO idea how long he'd been up there or if he'd actually done his whole act. Fortunately for him, he has a lot more experience at autopilot than I do, so it was smooooth flying. Nicely done, Fist Officer.

My next indication that I'd done okay came in the middle of Vlado's act. Ellis came over to my table and crouched down next to me. He clasped my hand, leaned over to my ear, and just whispered, "Jesus Christ". He then paused, like he was looking for more words, but then just repeated "Jesus Christ" again. With that, he shook my hand, got up, and walked away. So that's good, right? Blasphemy is better than even killing and nailing, right?

Some of our people had to leave (it WAS a Tuesday night, after all), including Rich, who came and did his video thing until after 9:00pm with us even though he had to get up at 2:30 AM for work. That's why he's our BOY, yo! Most of the disappearing folks didn't come over and say goodbye, and I thought that was very courteous, them not wanting to talk over the other people up on stage. We knew we'd talk to them the next day.

Oh, and I also flagged down the waitress right away and ordered FOOOOOOOD and drink. I was really, really hungry at this point. Got me some chicken strips and fries (and a Guinn), and was so hungry I burned the inside of my mouth on hot chicken. Didn't even feel it (until later)...I was feeling too good. Vlado and I toasted there at our table. We had set upon a mission, had seen it through, and hadn't either embarrassed or soiled ourselves. Armed with our phones, we both started going Facebook updates for those who hadn't been able to join us, and waited on the final comics to do their thing.

When the very last comic was in the middle of his bit, Christine (the manager who'd given us our tour the previous week) came over to me and leaned in for a whisper. She asked if I was available the following night, because they were about to announce me as the winner and the winner is supposed to come back to open the show the following night. I said I was, she said not to tell anyone just yet, as Ellis was going to be announcing it up on the mic. Vlado and Tim looked at me to see what that was about. I kind of shrugged them off, wanting to keep to my covenant of secrecy. But Vlado pulled out his phone, got on Facebook, typed the words "MIKE WON!!!" as a status update, but didn't hit "enter" until Ellis came up on the mic a few minutes later and made it official.

Wow. Shock. This was an important life lesson for me. One about facing fears. Everyone knows the stats on where the fear of public speaking ranks with people (scarier than death OR the Blair Witch). Comedy is scarier. It's not just public speaking. It's the lion's den of public speaking. Your job isn't just to hold the audience's attention. They expect LAUGHS. A lot of them. And they will punish you (with either silence, heckling, or yawning and starting to play Bejeweled 2 on their iPhones) if they don't get them. Your feedback is immediate. That's intimidating. So when you factor all that in, it's a pretty scary proposition. This made it a perfect test of my new way of thinking, and all that I've tried to learn about managing fear. I knew that I was going to feel great just knowing that I'd forced myself to do it and follow through, one way or the other. If I'd failed, I'd have at least been able to say I tried, and would always have the story about the time I got up on stage and tried to tell jokes with a bunch of my favorite people in the world there to watch me. Winning was not expected. But it was really cool. It was just that extra little pat on the back for not chickening out, and an incentive to keep trying new things in life...because you never know if you might just end up loving it.

And I loved this. Comedy kicks ass.

So I now officially have TWO things (this and Ireland) crossed off my bucket list, so big thanks to Vlado for forcing me to get it off the list and put it on the stage. He and I set out to make this reality and did just that, having a fantastic time in the process. And getting us a new nickname for Vlado in the process (I'm thinking of officially changing his name on my cell phone to "Fist Officer" now...).

A good and successful first night of comedy. And a chance to come back in less than twenty-four hours to do it again...and this time with a full 10 minutes available to me instead of 5. Hell, after a debut like that, there was no way anything could go wrong the following night, right?

Yeahhhhh. About that?

Stay tuned for Part 2 ("The WRONG Way...").


EPILOGUE

Oh, yeah...the John B. thing.

So John was sitting in his scooter at a table a few away from ours. While Vlado was on, this woman came up to John in the dark, handed him a card, and told him she'd really enjoyed his stuff. She said she ran an open mic up at a place at Folsom, and that she'd really like it if he'd come up and perform there.

Yes. She thought he was me.

Because, you know, us wheelchair people? We all look alike. At least in the dark, apparently.

Best part of that? John never even told her. He just rolled with it, thanked her for the compliment, took her card, and after the show was over, came over and handed it off to me.

Now THAT's comedy.