About two months ago I worked with a cool, laid back guy named Dwayne Gill, a very funny comic (and also a full time state trooper in Michigan, good dude to know if you live my lifestyle…) He offered me a sweet gig running through the UP of Michigan, with a Milwaukee gig in the middle for December 20-23. I took it in a second, mostly because it was all casinos (classy…supposedly) and I need the $. I did that $ on purpose b/c I am cool.
As the weeks went by, I realized this might be a pain. Why? I forgot about this thing called “Christmas” and other such details. Plus, in case you live in the Tropic of Cancer/Capricorn, the northernmost part of Michigan is COLD.
As I drove north, a cold front decided to ruin my eight hour drive by raining for the first five hours and turning to a frozen hell for the last four. I nearly wrecked twice, but I made it. Too bad I was stricken with PTSD by the end of my drive, but oh well. I got to the check in and the lady looked at me and said, “I can’t believe you made it!” When the venue says that, it proves you are a tard. In my defense, what was I supposed to do? Drive six hours north and turn around? “Oh, these potholes are a bit large…I’m going home. I’m sure the booking agent will understand that I no showed with four hours’ notice!” Answer – I would have been fired forever, even if rabid animals were loose or there was a bizzard (oh wait, there is one going on right now). I’m starting to think we need a comic union…