I got done with the first show Friday and went back to the hotel. The good news for me was that I didn’t have to travel to get to the next show, it was at the same club. Gas is the number one enemy of comedians. If comedians invaded the Middle East, the blood would run deep for all the hatred of the money lost traveling. It would resemble the sieges of Tamerlane. I’m a history nerd and no one will get that reference, plus comedians would fight like Lamar from the Revenge of the Nerds movies. Is that a better analogy? Get some, OPEC! Slappity slap! (Followed by crying)
I didn’t want to turn in early, mostly because I knew my Saturday would involve sitting in the hotel talking to myself until I went nuts. Luckily, this bar was attached to my hotel.
That’s right. Coyote Ugly meets Inbred Fred’s. I went in and saw more slutty farm girls than the last time I went to the Coen family reunion in Mobley, West Virginia. Then this happened – one of the bartenders started spanking a female patron over a barbershop chair. Nothing like faux lesbianism to excite the masses! I looked around and realized with this many drunk dudes and scantily clad ladies, I was probably going to get beat up in four and half minutes just standing there, so I slugged my beer and left. The downside to comedy is having to hang out alone or a place like this which screams “Hey, I haven’t been arrested recently.” I was a cranky 23 year old, you can bet I have no patience for club scenes now, whether country, techno, or rollerskating disco rinks. Back to the hotel to enjoy a conversation with myself!