Permission Slips
I
When Brian, one of the owners of the Lounge at the End of the Universe, walked up during the second opening act, he was very nice about how he told me not to photograph till after the show. I suffer from selective hearing, which is why I wasn’t aware I couldn’t photograph the acts as they were unfolding. This also meant that I didn’t capture any photos of Chris Fairbanks, the headliner. But I did manage to get Brian, Ian (the British American tall guy who gets mistaken for Australian), and Austin (the ADHD wildly kinetic zebra print leggings guy, whose sticker is a fly, because it’s always fly season in Boise). I’ll post them here till somebody makes me take them down.
There may be a comedy civil war coming down the pike. Hard to tell for sure. But there’s tension. Locals are poaching nationally-known comics who LEU spent time, money, and energy bringing to town. I don’t know how the locals feel about all this, or if the locals are who I’ve been hanging out at open mics with. I’m no politician. I’m liable to stumble into the middle of something way bigger than I can possibly understand. And nobody’s going to want to explain it. I’ll just show up and make people laugh, when asked.
At my table, which technically wasn’t my table because I was last to arrive, were Heather, assistant to the CEO of Scandinavian Designs Furniture, and Paige, St Luke’s nurse. What are the odds? Since arriving in Boise, we’ve been to Scandinavian Designs between six and ten times, and both our moms have been to the ER at St Luke’s. Crazy, right? Towards the end, after the show, when we were all lined up to meet the comics, and I was wondering where the server had gone with my credit card thirty minutes ago, Heather was showing her Instagram photos of her and Chris Fairbanks. If you’ve never seen Chris Fairbanks, he’s the king of random non-sequiturs (are there any other kind?). And the way he holds his water can is just plain weird. If I were the kind of person who takes selfies with comics (or anyone, for that matter), I’d post them to Instagram, too.
I have no idea what’s going to unfold in the Boise comedy scene. At some point, like in all the other civil wars going on in America today, we’ll be forced to pick a side and fight to the death to defeat the enemy. Till then, I’m going to keep going to all these shows and open mics so I can get better at my craft or whatever the hell it is. And hopefully, the Lounge at the End of the Universe won’t make me take down my pictures.
II
But wait, there’s more. The following night, the Don’t Tell Boise show was on. It’s one of those pop-up comedy events where they don’t tell you who’s going to perform, or where, till the day of the event. I happened to know that Chris Fairbanks was going to be headlining. Tyson Gusman, one of the regulars on the Boise circuit, was also there. He’s a pastor who’s been doing comedy for nine years now. You can’t tell he’s a pastor by his comedy, but he’s a super nice guy who goes out of his way to be helpful to the new kid in town. The others in the lineup were new to me, but I’m sure I’ll see them around. It’s a tight knit community. After the Don’t Tell show, I hightailed it to an open mic at the Mad Swede. I don’t remember which bit I did, but after watching my video recap, I realized I’ve been doing it all wrong again.
III
I wrote a new bit, stripped down instead of contrived. I practiced a thousand times. Then I headed over to Alia’s Coffeehouse for Boise’s latest open mic. Ah yes, much better. And then I wrote another one that doesn’t require forty years to tell. I’ll get it right one of these days. Till then, like anything else, persist.
