On to warmer pastures

Leaving Savannah, we steered our ship South toward warmer waters. There were a lot of good cities in Florida but Orlando jumped out first. Not only were temperatures in the mid-high 70’s, but we had heard the comedy scene was good there. We planned to do two shows during our short stay: the first was an open mic at a comedy club, the second a showcase at a microbrewery.

The trip to the comedy club started as most of our trips do - with difficulty parking. The comedy club was in a densely packed, touristy area with parking only available in garages. Under normal circumstances parking garages are awesome - but the van is too tall to fit in most of them. We were short on time and tried our luck. A sign hanging above the entrance said “Clearance 8’0”.

We slowly crept under the sign, shrinking down in our seats as if more headroom would appear above the van. A grating echo rang out immediately -- our vehicular limbo didn’t work. Luckily there was no damage to the van, this time. By the end of our trip we’ll have to go around and describe each dent like a dude regaling a lady with scar stories.

Daily grind

Struggling to find parking is part and parcel of vanlife. People always ask what the hardest part of living in a van is. “Is it living out of a suitcase?”, “Showering at Planet Fitness?”, “No home cooked meals?”. The list goes on and on, but for me the hardest part of vanlife is getting good sleep. For Dan, the hardest part of vanlife is trying to convince his dad that he’s not gay.

Every conversation with his dad begins with “You can tell me anything, you know”. Dan then tries to prove he’s not gay, but it doesn't help. The more he denies, the worse he looks. It’s like when you were a kid and your parents would say “You’re tired. You need a nap”. You’d scream “NO I DON’T!!!” and they’d go “See, you’re cranky”. The tantrum only proved their point.

For my part, I go out of my way to make Dan’s dad think we’re gay. Every time we’re back in Philly I run to him with arms flapping in excitement screaming “Heyyy Mr. Crescimanno!” and kiss him on both cheeks. My bag ‘accidentally’ spills, pouring stacks of Playgirl magazines and lube. It really is fun watching Dan try to hyper-masculinize the van to ‘prove’ he’s straight. He’s like “Dad it’s a big tough van. The engine’s got balls and long pumping pistons. It’s a RAM, dad, a RAM! It’s tough! Otherwise they wouldn’t call it a BlowMaster .. I mean ProMaster!”

Ready to roll

We parked at 7:50 and the signup sheet came out at 8:00. It sounds like we had plenty of time but of course that wasn’t the case; our parking spot was a mile away from the club. A ten-minute mile is easy to jog on a treadmill, but we were sprinting across busy highways, dodging traffic Frogger style.

We arrived sweaty and red-faced at 8:02 and asked around for the list. We found out we didn’t even need to rush - the mic had a ‘bump list’. This meant if you didn’t get up the week prior, you went up first next time. Typically we wouldn’t have gotten on the show, but luckily the host was really cool and reserved a few spots for out of towners.

We mixed it up with a bunch of the other comics and it was a real pleasure. The Orlando scene felt really inclusive and supportive. We did our time on stage then hung out to watch more. Toward the end, everyone at the show was treated to a unique set.

Blast from the past

The host announced the next comic, saying “returning after a 20 year standup hiatus, please give a warm welcome to (guy’s name)!”. He took the stage and it was like he had just stepped out of a comedy time capsule. He looked like a wacky club comic from the 90’s with big billowy khakis and a loud, ill-fitting sport coat.

If his look was 20 years old, his material was at least 40. He had the cheesy setup/punch, setup/punch style of a guy who’d would play the Borscht Belt and crush with one-liners and rimshots. Watching this guy was surreal - it was as if a Catskills comic from the 70’s found a time machine and traveled to the modern day. He opened with “I walked into a dumbbell at the gym the other day … and he tried to sue me!”

Everyone laughed at the first few jokes thinking he was doing some kinda ironic schtick to shake off the rust but after a few more of those jokes it became clear he was serious. The laughs then petered out because comedy, like any art, evolves with time. Back in the day you could pump laughs out of the bovine masses through the setup/punch cadence alone, like “Why don’tcha play poker in the jungle? There’s too many cheetahs! OH!" *Buh-dun-chhh*. Today, those jokes are groaners.

On to the next one

The following night we did a showcase at a microbrewery. Initially there was only room for one of us to go up, but when we got there the host told us a spot had opened up. We were in luck! The show was a blast. The other comics were welcoming and the crowd was really with it.

After the show we drove East to check out the coast. We went to Cocoa Beach and stepped into a bar. Not 15 minutes had passed before a fight broke out between a man and woman both in their 50’s. We were packed inside with all the other patrons but could see the melee clearly through the window. They slugged it out like Rocky and Tommy Gunn landing haymaker after haymaker. We decided it was time to go.

With that bizarre turn in the night, we drove South until we found the nearest Planet Fitness. We got some rest and in the morning drove to Miami.