This past weekend I travelled to West Stockbridge, MA in the Berkshires to perform at The Foundry, a wonderful and intimate (when comedians cannot sell a lot of tickets we use intimate to make it sound like it was a choice) venue.  As a distinguished alumnus of Williams College, the most notable landmark in the Berkshires, I expected a hero’s welcome.  The Prodigal B Student has returned!  Well, this was more like The Good Samaritan, where the people I expected to show up did not, but many people I did not expect to did and made for a really great show.  So without further delay, let’s get into it!

Big Comedian, Mini Cooper

I made my way into south Harlem to get a ride with comedian and show producer Kevin Bartini.  To kill some time I wandered Frederick Douglass Blvd, just one bi-racial legend crossing literal paths with another. I also noticed a lot more of the people walking the streets had more of a resemblance to Douglass’ father than his mother.  If I can paraphrase the great Gary Gulman, “There’s Malcolm X Blvd, I live more int he Malcom Gladwell section of Harlem, but not the Malcolm in the Middle section.”

I met Kevin at his apartment and he pointed me to a Mini Cooper. When I saw the car I assumed Kevin would sit in there and a horse trailer would be coming for me to load myself into.  But alas, it did not arrive so I folded myself and my bad knees and my increasingly bad hips for the 2.5 hour drive to West Stockbridge.

We Sold Tickets? We Sold Tickets!

When we arrived at The Foundry (which based on its regal name and its small capacity feels like a perfect place for me to record a special – I began my path to humor as the joker on the Williams College basketball team (not joker as in Jokic, but joker as in makes lots of (too many) jokes) and perhaps it could end in The Berkshires as well.  At the front desk we realized we were going to easily clear 50 tickets sold (this may not seem impressive, but we were at 4 tickets sold five days earlier).  The one thing I have experienced trying to transition from middle act to headliner (I have always identified as a headliner, but over the last few years, thankfully, I have been able to express my comedian identity and live my low-ticket-selling-truth) is that for most shows, because most of my fans stink and my good fans are procrastinators, I am stressed on ticket sales instead of mentally prepping for my set for most shows.  It is really taking a lot of the enjoyment out of it for me, but that is the important “business” in showbusiness.

Kevin opened the show and was followed by a regional radio personality Steve Nagle and both set the table wonderfully.  I then took the stage and had a great time. Working about 75% new material, so much worked, the crowd was great (it skewed older, but I am realizing that just like with porn, I am starting to really warm up to the 60 and older crowd) and I was feeling that dangerous thing that has teased and tortured me throughout my almost 21 years doing stand-up comedy: hope.  I sold a decent amount of merch after and just felt good.  But the Lord giveth and he taketh away.

New Jersey Transit Can Ruin Anything

We got back in Kevin’s Mini Cooper and made our way to NY Penn Station for my train back to NJ.  I figured I would get the 1:19am, which is the last train to my town on a Saturday (or first Sunday technically), but as Kevin made good time, I realized the 12:34am train was in play.  I have enjoyed the extra money, extra space and extra quiet in my move from NYC to NJ.  But living your life at the whim of NJ transit is not a good way to live. It is the worst.  Metro North and LIRR are Uber Black compared to NJ transit in terms of service.  And here is where the great day, or technically it is the next day, gets ruined.

Kevin dropped me off with 7 minutes to spare.  A homeless man in a wheelchair asked me to buy him something from a food truck.  I walked a few steps away and then my guilty conscience, which almost never shuts off, said “give him some money.”  I handed him a $5 and he then began to ask me if I could get him something from the truck. I felt bad, but told him I was sorry and had to run. Hopefully someone facilitated the purchase.

When I got to Penn Station every 8th avenue entrance was closed (of course, why should I be able to get my train at the train station) so I power walked (bad hips and knees) to 7th avenue and got in with 2 minutes to spare to see a huge crowd of people waiting for trains.  Of course the trains were all delayed.  In fact, the 12:34 never arrived and I got a 1:01am train to Newark to then get a Lyft back to my town.  And while waiting for that 1:01 train I saw thousands of Morgan Wallen fans arrive (his audience appears to be 17-20 year old white trash for whom (who or whom? Can never figure that one out) the N word is not a deal breaker in 2024) in Penn Station.  Why do I mention that? Because a lot of Morgan Wallen fans then turned right around to get on trains back to NJ because they are as dumb as you might imagine.

i arrived home at 2am to be greeted by an ecstatic Cookie and could only sleep 5 hours before going to early Mass and a book event at a Manhattan Holocaust Museum, which was still uplifting compared to NJ Transit.