This past weekend (Thursday-Sunday) I was at the DC Improv, one of my favorite two clubs in the country (Helium in Philly being the other). Third place is reserved for whoever books me the week I am asked to rank comedy clubs.  I think it might have been my 8th career week working the Improv, but one of the great things about a “career” in stand up comedy is that no matter how familiar or routine it can begin to feel. there is always a chance to be surprises for better and for worse.  I was opening for Clayton English, 2015’s winner of Last Comic Standing, so it was clear the shows were all going to be packed. But as usual with these write ups, let’s start from the beginning

Mission Impossible: Find an affordable hotel in a reputable chain near a Metro Stop during high tourism season in DC

The last few times I have performed in the DC area I think it has been the Summer, which means Congress out of session, swamp ass in full swing and lower rates on hotels.  So I had some sticker shock looking up hotels, realizing that the area hotels coming up in my price range were homeless shelters and 24 Hour McDonald’s bathrooms.  Thankfully, due to the new Silver line on the Metro I was able to secure a nice room at a Residence Inn by Marriot in Tysons Corner, VA. It was 10 stops from the club and only involved 15 minutes of side-of-highway/no sidewalk walking to and from the Metro (please check my instagram at jlcomedy to see a midnight video montage of my walk that my mother called “scary”).  The room was very nice, there were free cookies in the afternoon, a solid breakfast including a waffle iron (the three great equalizers in human history are a) the printing press b) the Internet and c) waffle irons at discount hotel chains) and a Subway nearby for me to eat fresh.  The only problem I had with the hotel was that their front entrance was a magnet for those humungous, fat bees that don’t sting you, but are still scary as hell.  One bumped into my forehead and I think with both have CTE now.

Can’t Sell Merch If People Store Their Coats On Top of It

The shows were all strong for the week, but my merch sales suffered a bit. One reason is that people kept throwing their coats directly on top of my CDs like it was an upstairs bedroom of a house party when going to get pictures with the headliner.  This was almost as embarrassing as the audience member who looked at me and said “sorry, but can you take a picture of us (her and the headliner). Fortunately Clayton is a good dude or just saw horror in my eyes and immediately asked some random person to take the photo.  The jackets on my merch offense (“IN MY CULTURE IT IS A BIG INSULT TO THROW YOUR COAT ON TOP OF A MAN’S LIFE WORK!”)  happened a total of three times (one coat by a young man whose mother then reprimanded him and he immediately picked the coat up, once by an absentminded woman and I was able to snap a pic of it and then the third was technically a purse, but you get the idea), after happening zero times in the previous 12 years and 10 months of me performing stand up. #Blessed

The Joke That Wouldn’t Quite Work and the Group of Yentas Who wouldn’t Shut Up

I did largely tried and true material throughout the weekend, but my bit about why it is a good thing 9/11 didn’t happen in 2016 (the people yelling World Star while filming the towers falling, the people taking selfies and recording it instead of helping or getting help and the 4.9 million blog posts the next day about how it effected ME) fell flat for 3 of the 5 shows (and I did not bother doing it for the Sunday crowd, which was very tight before I even thought about going there).  However, it became the joke that the most people would specifically reference to me after shows to say “I thought it was great.”  But the offense never lasted because I have really fully developed my “If Trump and Bernie were comedians” bit and it really crushes any awkwardness, especially in apolitically minded town like DC.  In other words I used the impressions as such a crutch that they almost didn’t seem like the usual crutch of hacky impersonators. Or I have become what I despise.

But in a week of mostly highlights and oncoming traffic lights (remember by walks at midnight on the side of highways in Tysons Corner?) the lowlight was a no-brainer.  It was after the early Friday show and a group of four Jewish women approached me with the shortest being the most vocal, of course. Here is a summary with some quotes of the 4 minutes I stood with Skanks and the City:

Short Blonde: Are you really half black?

Me: Yes

SB: Really?

Me: Yeah.

SB: Because my friends and I thought you looked like Adam Sandler and Jerry Seinfeld.

Me: Uh Huh.

(Awkward pause)

SB: And they’re both Jewish. So we thought you were Jewish. And we’re all Jewish.

Me: OK.

Skank and the City Member 2: Are you really half black?

Me: Yeah

#2: Really?

Me: Yeah

#2: I want to see a picture

SB and Skank #3: OH DO YOU HAVE A PICTURE OF YOUR PARENTS?

At this point there was actually a small line of people wanting to take pictures (and maybe buy CDs) from me, so you know they were taking a LONG time if there was a line forming for me. After a few more racial inquiries, they had one of their boyfriends, take a picture. he grabs a phone and says: Are you really half black?

Me: Yeah.

After the first picture he says: OK (to all of us in the picture) Do something goofy!

Me (internally): what is this a wedding photo?

I then glare at the woman next to me for the photo, which got a big laugh from everyone (as intended) except the woman (#2)

#2: Why are you so awkward?

Me: have a nice night everyone (before I join ISIS)

Sunday: No Groupie Night (Girlfriend’s Friends Coming to the Show)

On Sunday I saw a movie with my buddy Ross (Midnight Special – like E.T. without fun or aliens – started promising, overally disappointing) and then went to Mass at St Matthew’s near the Improv (Pope Francis went there when he was in town so I guess I was the 2nd high profile Catholic there this year). Then it was time for the final show of the week, which was special because two of my girlfriend’s friends were coming to watch.  So first I had to update my ho-fan page that Sunday night’s show was off limits and then not have a terrible set.  Mission accomplished!  The friends then gave me a ride to Union Station to catch the final train out of DC that night.  A perfect end to a mostly great week in DC: it started with me on the side of a highway walking and ended with a door to door ride from the club to Amtrak.

And then I got home and my dog peed with excitement on the floor. Like comedy, my dog knows how to deliver just enough bad with something good to make me constantly question my life choices.

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