My friend asked me to send him my most memorable moment as a comedian for the paper. I wrote it, but sent it off too late to get published. Still, I wrote it, and now someone should read it.
Here you go, someone:
In my first year of comedy a good friend, and fellow comedian, talked me into competing in a gong show. It was being run by a local radio station, and the ultimate prize was time on the radio with the morning show.
If you don’t know what a gong show is, performers get on stage to do their thing, and if the audience is sufficiently amused/impressed/sated they will let the performer complete his/her performance. Then the judges decide whether you advance. Otherwise the audience boos you, and you get the gong.
It was being held in a large bar with a performance area and a big stage. I showed up and somehow charmed the 15 people there that night, along with the judges, to win my way past the first round and advance onto the finals (this was the very first night of the contest).
They plugged the contest every week on the radio, and two months later I showed up to the finals to find 400+ people crammed into the same bar.
The air-conditioning had broken, and the bar wasn’t expecting that many people, so there were only two waitresses and one bartender trying to serve everyone. The crowd was hot, they were sober, and they were pissed.
Meanwhile I was by the stage excited about performing in front of all these people. Hell, I’d won this room over two months ago. I was using the same jokes. I was pretty certain I had a chance!
When each of the three acts before me got booed off stage before finishing a single joke I realized how woefully under prepared I was to handle the room (crowd management is a skill you develop with time and experience. I obviously had neither at that point). I was fourth and the stage felt like a gallows as I climbed its steps. Just like in a hanging there would be booing, and possibly thrown fruit.
But I was new. And when you’re that new your mind gives you just enough hope to make certain you go through with whatever act is supposed to permanently scar you. It’s the same kind of hope that makes a child put a finger into a wall socket, you know, just in case electricity might give you super powers.
I got on stage, I started, and I immediately got booed.
Have you ever been booed by 400 people at one time? It’s magical. If you can experience it without a subsequent lynching I recommend it. It’s like walking into the road and staring down the headlights on a truck. You question every choice you’ve ever made and you’re pretty sure they were all wrong.
But, I didn’t break. Instead I looked up and, with surprising authority, said, “Hey.” The entire crowd immediately went silent. “How about you let me finish a joke before you judge me?” And then 400 people started thunderously applauding me.
Have you ever been wildly applauded by 400 people who were just booing you? It’s a surreal experience. It’s like the headlights on that truck turning out to be two motorcyclists that just ride around you. You’re not entirely certain how it is that you’re still alive.
In that moment it occurred to me that I might actually have a knack for what I was doing. I took over the room with one word. I made them respect me with a look. I had managed a large group of people who had no interest in seeing anyone perform. Not with anger. I didn’t rage, or yell, or scream. It was just sheer force of will.
Unfortunately, a natural knack doesn’t make up for a lack of time on stage or experience. I went right back into the same joke, in the same soft timid voice, lost the crowd, and got gonged. An hour later, and as the case with most open contests, they crowned a Magician winner.
But I’ll never forget that moment. My lowest and highest moment in the same night. Where they hated me, and loved me all in the same second. It’s a moment I’ve been working back towards ever since.
