By almighty decree

We’re not sure if Providence got its name from the biblical “protective care of God”, but the city certainly had a divine feel. The comedic atmosphere was really unique and had a special way of leaving a lasting impression -- like a touch from God.

Somewhere between New York and Providence we crossed the invisible 'really vs. wicked' line. I imagine two neighbors getting their newspapers in the morning like "It's really hot today, huh?" and the other neighbor goes "No, it's wicked hawt!" and they fight to the death.

Providence was one of those rare cities where parking wasn’t an issue. We parked and were inside in less than 5 minutes (A new record!). The mic was held in a neat bar that had pinball machines, air hockey tables, and vintage arcade games spread throughout.

We signed our names on the list and began making small talk with the bartender to pass time.  She was friendly but exhausted. She said she had just returned from a bachelorette weekend in Vegas and was feeling the pain. We could tell. If a hangover symptom list from WebMD became a living person, she was it. Bloodshot eyes, fatigue, and increased sensitivity to light and sound. She still made it to work, though -- gotta respect that hustle.

Of course we didn’t perform in the nice area upstairs. As is often the case with open mic, comics are relegated to the basement. When the host announced the start of the mic, we and our fellow court jesters slunk downstairs.

The basement was basically a Saw filming location. Concrete slab floors. Exposed piping. Slow drip leaks. None of us were even phased. In the world of open mic, this place is home. We can’t even get in the right headspace for comedy without a comforting lungful of asbestos.

If it’s your first night at open mic, you HAVE to perform

As we settled in and began looking around, we realized open mic and fight club are essentially identical on paper. A bunch of dudes gather in dim, dirty basements. They follow a set of rules. It’s cult-like. They kick ass or get their asses kicked -- sometimes it’s a bloodbath. They don’t talk about when or where it takes place. The club owner doesn’t even know about it. And there’s a rush of endorphins when it’s over.

The hosts really crushed it that evening. There was one for the first half and one for the second half but they did a kind of two-man show between performers. They played off each other really well and their material was clever. They also followed the list, so Dan and I performed back-to-back that night.

True grit

The comics in Providence were tough. It was a shitty, rainy night and everyone still showed up. There was even a dude with a broken hip who performed on crutches. Before he even got to the stage (to be spiritually broken), he crutched his (physically broken) body down a flight of uneven, rickety steps.  He had to balance on his good leg and set the other crutch down to hold the mic. Respect.

The comics in Providence had really dark material, which was awesome. In the current climate of political correctness and walking on eggshells so as not to offend anyone, there were a number of comics in Providence running hilariously un-PC jokes. It was refreshing to see. Some scenes are clearly more sensitive than others, but there wasn’t even a shred of that here.

For a good time, call ...

I hit the bathroom before we left. The walls were covered in vulgar messages and stickers from various local bands. There were also twitter and instagram handles scrawled on every imaginable surface. We all know the best way to gain fans is to provide an associative link between your art and a mountain of fecal matter.

Scanning the room, I actually did see a sticker from a comic we know out of Philly. It’s funny how you can travel all over and still find shreds of home.

After the show we hopped back in the van and headed to Boston.