I’ll Always Have Chicago, But Now Fewer People Will Starve

I’ll Always Have Chicago, But Now Fewer People Will Starve

The needle is well buried into the red on the Exhaust-O-Meter. Flight back from Florida began as most flights seem to (too damn early for my liking) and had an uneventful connection in Charlotte. I’m sure Charlotte is a great city, if their Cinnabon in the connector lounge is anything to go by.

Landed, got home, shook the sand from the luggage and then got everything ready for the seven-hour-drive-each-way to Columbus, OH with Brian Hope. We had hooked ourselves up with a showcase spot at the Funny Bonef or the club owner who books a dozen clubs in the US. A good man to know, obviously.

Brian went first and did, by his own description, mediocre. Not me saying. His material was as good as ever, but just did not find the audience at all for some reason. We all get crap nights, and usually mine come whenever the words “case” and “show” are in close proximity. Thankfully, the training run in Florida provided me with a 20 minute set that I was comfortable with. Seemed to go well. Got to talk to the Godfather running the show who explained out of the clubs he has, he’s got a full roster already, but I could probably work one of the clubs he’s got in Hartford later in the year. Happy was I. The guy books chaps like Joe Rogan, Jim Gaffigan, Dom Irrera, and Norm MacDonald. Heard of any of them? To get a sniff in their direction is a privilege.

Deciding to totally press my luck, I asked for a five-minute spot on the Urban Show (read “not-white-at-all”) that followed. Roy Johnson, the headliner from the first show, stared at me blankly and offered me the most sympathetic-and-sarcastic-at-the-same-time “Good luck with that” that I’d ever seen. He called it right, though. In the same way I got silence and guns cocking in South West Florida, I got blank stares, silence, and guns clicking about two minutes in. They gave me long enough grace off the top but let’s face facts, when people see me, the first thing they do not think is “That boy’s got Apollo Theatre written all over him.”

Side note on Roy: He’s part of a podcast called “Nobody Likes Onions” and when he said they get between 60 and 80,000 listeners a week, my penis shrank and my testicles started hobnobbing with my diaphragm.

Drive home began shortly after 7:30am and got home at 3:30pm just in time to do the Drive call with Mike Reid. Any time to nap? Nope. Had the first McVeigh’s show to contend with.

9:00pm start time my ass. 9:30pm we finally got the show running but it’s not that big of a deal, truthfully. Consider the half-hour grace a “reception”. From here on in, set your watches for 9:00pm on a Thursday. The fundraiser for Second Harvest did just that. We even got mentioned in the Torontoist.com site, so how do you like those apples. Highpoints of the night for me outside of raising a goodly amount of cash for a decent cause, but seeing the outpouring of support from all the comics as well as friends who made up the civilian-side of the audience. Thanks to all the comics that made the first night worth all the effort, and to the crew of folks that chipped in to get me a new mic stand for the inaugural launch of the new-to-me McVeigh’s room. You guys know who you are and it’s greatly appreciated.

And yes, you’ll all get stage time, so stop hounding me. Thanks again, all.

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