I walked into the show Monday night and it was pretty packed. Most of the crowd was there to see a new comic who had written his entire set list on his arm. It beats someone reading out of a notebook onstage, I guess. The focus, however, went to a guy with a greaser haircut and his very drunk ladyfriend. I would say they were ruining the show, but like complete hillbillies, they thought they were helping.
I introduced myself to start the show and Johnny Rockets yelled, “What are we doing?” I don’t know what you’re doing, other than destroying my opening, but I’m about to tell jokes. Over the next 40 minutes, the woman got into a screaming match over her cell phone, they yelled “Eastside!” or “Westside!” about a dozen times, and he mumbled incoherently while she bellowed answers to comedy questions. The last part is the ultimate sin. There’s nothing worse than asking, “So anyone like movies?” and having someone yell, “Actually, I enjoy sci fi! It’s cool that Star Trek came out, but I really hope they get the Kahn character right…blah blah blah…” OK, WE GET IT.
Mercifully, they left, which made me angry at the comics that didn’t have to deal with them, but thankful for the silence. I knew it was getting out of hand when a comic said something about white power and the guy cheered a little too loud, like he wasn’t laughing, but about to start the meetin’. Thanks for reinforcing a stereotype, white trash.