This past weekend I found myself performing in a co-work space (is that what they are called?) in Larchmont, New York. The location, I learned when I was booked, is called The Idea Kitchen, which made me think it was a bar or restaurant, a more normal place to perform for comedians.  But it turns out that only thing cooking at the Idea Kitchen are ideas!  Well, sometimes the strangest places to perform end up being some of the best shows. Was this such a case?  Keep reading to find out (*clicks out of blog because more than one paragraph feels like homework*).

Animals and Dogs on Metro North

As I waited for the train from Bloomfield to Manhattan on NJ Transit I noticed that waiting for my train was one of the most attractive women I have ever seen.  Imagine if Megan Goode were 5’9″, wearing a Houston Texans jersey tied up Men on Film style, with short jean shorts and a prettier face than Megan Good.  If this sounds like fantasy that is why I kept pinching her on the platform to see if I was dreaming (it turns out I am supposed to pinch myself, lesson learned).  It is not low self esteem for me to wonder what the hell this woman was doing (and presumably living?) in my town.  Perhaps she heard in 2020 that it was a place of entertainment superstars (true), but since 2022 the clout and value of those superstars has plummeted and she can’t yet get out of a long term lease.

When I arrived in Manhattan I made my way to Grand Central for a 6:36pm train to Larchmont.  I arrived 25 minutes early and since I had burned at least 100 calories on my walk there I figured I had earned a 690 calorie milkshake and 450 calorie hamburger from Shake Shack.  As I finished I walked on to my train to see in my car:

• a mother and daughter combo with their bare feet on their seats
• a man and woman with their large dog (65+ lbs) on a seat eating dog food off a plate on another seat
• a woman with her large dog lying in the aisle (the least offensive but still impeded someone from going into another train car

I sat down and read my book and fortunately only had to shut out two different cell phones blaring mindless content.  Of course, just like Michael Jordan needed angry motivation before games, boiling with anger at the lack of manners and decency in society always puts me in the right frame of mind for a comedy show (to my comedically challenged fans – that is sarcasm)

The Idea Kitchen

When I arrived at the Idea Kitchen is when I realized it was a co-working space and not a restaurant.  It was basically a full house (I would guess over 50 people) in the area and the show went great.  I continued working on my new material, which may be ready to be my 9th stand up album at the end of the year (tentative title: With Fans Like These, Who Needs Euthanasia?). The crowd were great laughers and picked up on almost everything I was putting down.  I left shortly after my set because I had to coordinate the right Metro North train so as not to miss the 2nd to last train to my town on NJ Transit.  Here’s a quick new bit from the show (others are on my patreon *stop reading, block J-L on all social media*):

Lovely Ladies of Metro North

When I got on my Metro North train I noticed our train had a petite, very cute  Latina ticket taker.  if there is an indicator that the Biden economy is not working it is hot women taking the train and working on the train.  What is this World War 2?! Of course I immediately thought, “how is that woman going to protect herself if an unruly passenger does not want to pay?”  I got my answer in the more brash, older Latina woman who was also working the train. The woman who could have been her mother in terms of age difference and similar size, got on the PA system about 10 minutes into the ride and said the following (I am closely paraphrasing): “I want to go through a few of the rules with everyone as we ride. Smoking and vaping are not allowed on this train since forever. Please don’t do it. Be courteous of your fellow travelers. And the seats are not footrests (this is where I got slightly aroused. And by slightly I mean fully). if you can see it, feel it or smell it you have probably stepped in it (bars) and we don’t want that on the seats. Please be courteous and have a great trip.”  At this point I realized that my love of trains, manners and Latin women had just gelled on this one soft core porn train ride back to the city.  But then my integrity was tested and I failed.

When cute Latina ticket taker took my ticket she went to the woman behind me (I could only hear her) and asked for her ticket. The woman in a “I am usually entitled but I am putting on my most submissive voice” said she had come from a different car and forget to take her ticket marker with her.  Now I spotted a lie in her description because I knew she had come from the other side she was claiming.  Cute Latina ticket taker was not convinced and had her own sweet voice she threw back at her but accepted her explanation. Meanwhile me listening to this conversation:

When we were close to the city the woman behind me got up and my usual impeccable, integrity-filled disgust at someone trying to sneak a train ride completely dissolved.  Rocking a sort of 2015 Demi Lovato haircut and filling out a jumpsuit in a way that I had never seen in person before, I immediately offered to pay her ticket and her rent for the next 6 months.  Once again, this was supposed to be something I merely thought and made a joke about, not a literal offer to be made out loud.  Lesson learned.

The Way Home

With some time to spare I walked from Grand Central to Penn Station. Feeling both elated from a good show and the vitrual 4some on the train (the older ticket taker would be invited simply because her wit and integrity is always welcome to be in the room, but only as support/personal assistant for cute ticket taker and jumpsuit Lovato) I did what I always do when I am depressed or happy – I got a milkshake.

It has been years since I had a Mr. Softee milkshake and I spotted a truck by the 42nd street library.  I ordered a chocolate milkshake and when Mr Softee said “twelve dollars” I instinctively blew on my rape whistle and ran to Penn Station.

I got on the 11:11 train home and was happy for a great night when a man dropped his beer as he fell asleep and some of it splashed my jeans.  Did he apologize? Of course not. Did it conveniently mask some of the stains on my pants from earlier train rides? A gentleman of the rails never tells.