The Bar Show

I was walking from my car to a small dive bar. I passed a large comedy club where I know the manager very well, who was standing out front. We hug and exchange pleasantries then he says, “Did you want to see the set tonight?”

“No, I got invited to some variety show at the bar next door and it was really important to the person who invited me that I go.”

He grinned. “Awwww, that’s cute.” I haven’t been to a bar show in probably eight years. I am no stranger to the bar show, it is where most folks get the start down the path of comedy.

But it is also something you usually graduate out of and not usually something you go back to. Not always the case, some really successful stand up shows have made homes, in bars, but almost never a variety show. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a comedy snob, it’s not the bar shows fault. It’s just so many bar shows are terrible, so even if this new one is great it is fighting the stereotype of all the terrible bar shows. I was invited by a mom friend from my kids' school. She wasn’t even performing, she was a supportive friend/audience and it was very important to her I go. I have tried to be someone who shows up, especially since I have taken a step back from producing/performing. So here I was, showing up to a bar show I didn’t know anything about.

I walked into a tiny dive bar that maybe sat 10 people tops. I said, “Excuse me, is there a show happening tonight?” The bartender didn’t speak, he just pointed to a door. I walk down stairs to a room that is only slightly bigger than the up stairs, maybe can seat 20 people tops. I see my friend and we chat a bit. She excitedly introduces me to all her friends, they are all very nice and some seem really nervous. The show was supposed to start at 7pm and it was already 7:15 and some of the performers hadn’t shown up yet. That is not unusual for a bar show, even the performers don’t treat it like a real show.

The show was about to start and my friend and I took front and center seats. My chair had a small spring that was poking my right butt cheek. The first act was a stand up who held his notebook and read his jokes from it. They weren’t great jokes and he kept tapping the mic and asking “Is this thing on?” Like a bad cliché and chuckling to himself. The one joke I remember he said he was so glad it’s not winter any more, cause that means his wife will stop dressing like a slut. Then topped the joke with a finger gun and wink shout out to his wife sitting in the audience. I squirmed in my broken seat.

The next act was musical, the act started with a solid 3 minuets of him tuning his guitar in front of us all. Then he finally sang a song. It was nice enough, I assume it was original cause I wasn’t familiar with it.

The next act was a female stand up that was introduced as an alumni of the Second City. I wanted to jump up and explain to them how that was not only not true, but that they could get in a lot of trouble for saying that. But I also didn’t want to look crazy so I didn’t. She was fine, I could tell in about 3 years she was gonna be great. You could tell she had a natural instinct but was just not hitting the mark just yet.

Fast forward a bit to a musical duo that walked to the stage wearing sunglasses. The fella played guitar really well, but the lady couldn’t sing. It was tough to watch cause you could see how hard she was trying. I couldn’t tell you if the songs had jokes in them, cause I couldn’t really understand what they were saying half the time cause the singing was so out of tune it distracted from everything else. But just then in a moment of pure joy you can only experience at a bar show the lady who couldn’t sing started to beat box. And she was really f’ing good at it. I felt my whole body perk up.

Intermission started and I stepped outside to get some fresh air and clear my head. An older gentleman, maybe 60 or so, asked me if I knew any of the performers. I told him no, but that a friend of mine did. He then started telling me his whole life story. He use to live in the suburbs, but got to many DUIs. He quit drinking for 20 years but now he drinks again and lives in the city so he can walk to bars. I wasn’t sure how to react to his story, so I just smiled and nodded as if that is an appropriate response to something like that. In actuality I want to hug him and tell him it would be ok, but again I didn’t want to seem crazy.

Back to the show. I started to get the itch. The one that says, oh hell let me get up and show these kids how to destroy this room. I started to go over the act I would do in my head. Would it be my interactive crowd work? Maybe my bit about porn and marriage. I could crush his room, this 16 people wouldn’t know what hit them. Please someone in the room just assume I am a performer and ask me to jump up. Maybe they will have an open mic part at the end of the show and I could reluctantly make my way up to the mic. “I mean if you really want me to perform, I just came to watch, but since you insist.” I started to tune out the acts and go over my set list in my head. Then the night changed.

A female stand up got up and scream into the mic. I know this instinct well. The instinct that tells you if I yell the “joke” it will feel funnier. I blame this on Sam Kinison teaching 80s babies comedy from the comfort of our living room. As she screamed her jokes she told us the following things about herself. 1. She use to be married to a Greek guy. 2. She slept with her Jew lawyer to pay for the divorce. 3. She has a kid that she clearly does not like. As she was screaming these facts at us she started to cry. So she was yelling and crying and started to slowly add low kicks into her act to punctuate certain words. People were laughing, but I wasn’t sure why.

They took another intermission. A fella that was sitting behind me was very very drunk. He wanted to take a picture with his camera but he had run out of space on the phone. “This is bullshit, I have an unlimited plan. That should mean unlimited space. This is some net neutrality bullshit right here.” I offered to help him take a picture that would load right to Facebook. He agreed to give me access to his Facebook page. I took the picture and uploaded it to his page. Just then he shouted, “Shit! Is my girlfriend gonna see that post?” I didn’t answer, but I assume she would. For the rest of the night he would keep trying to play with his phone. Trying to figure out how to delete the post and repeated “shit” over and over again.

The show finally came to a close. It ended with the host gushing about how proud he was of the show and how he loved everyone in the room. How next month they would do it again. He looked like he was going to cry. He had a smile from ear to ear. I did too. I was glad I showed up, if for no other reason but to have supported this small bar show for one night only.