The Rapture

We knew Salt Lake City was a religious town, but we didn’t know just how conservative it was until we saw the first billboard, which read “Cosmopolitan magazine contains porn”. If Cosmo was the bar for pornographic/objectionable content, this place was going to be very different for us.

We had just left Denver - a city with legal weed and ample breweries. Even though it’s a very tame city on a national scale, compared to Salt Lake City it was a veritable Gomorrah. If the people of Salt Lake City knew we had come from a city of such ‘drunkenness and debauchery’, they’d likely have executed us on the spot.

Fill up my cup

As expected, the drinking culture was strikingly different compared to the rest of the country. It was not a drinking town at all. In Salt Lake City, the peak of romance would be saying to your partner “Baby, I’m gonna make the moon shine{" "} for you”. Whereas in the South, the most romantic thing you can say to your partner is “Baby, I’m gonna make moonshine for you”.

Salt Lake City has bizarre laws concerning alcohol. If you want draft beer, the strongest they can serve is 3.2% abv. You can consume as much hard liquor as you please, but heaven forbid you have a draft beer stronger than 3.2%. Makes perfect sense.

Wait … what?

The reasoning stems from religion -- which has always been known for infallible logic and flawless argumentation.

Mormons are against the consumption of alcohol. Knowing prohibition couldn’t be enforced, they decided to limit the strength of alcohol under the naive notion that limited potency would reduce the instance of abuse. This contradicts the science of addiction, which is strange because religion usually never contradicts science.

We know, we know. Everyone bashes the mormons for being a bunch of zealots. It’s played out. Can’t we just give them a fair shake?

Show #1

Our first show was at a really indie coffee shop - the type where you’d get berated for liking Starbucks. If you’re a real hipster everything - even coffee - needs to be subversive or counter culture. If you like anything mainstream, you’re a fuckin’ square.

Prior to showtime, the comics were spread out into little groups, chatting amongst themselves. A college age woman in one group was being particularly loud and annoying. It must’ve been a way to compensate for fear - nerves got the best of her and she chickened out before the mic began.

It’s understandable - standup is scary. It takes more guts to put your comedic ability on display than almost anything else. For example, most people could be talked into belting out karaoke even if they suck at singing. It’s just silly fun. But try convincing your friends to do a few minutes of standup and see how it goes. Despite your power of persuasion (or coercion), they likely won’t do it.

Humor is part of who you are, not just something that you do. Going back to the karaoke analogy - if someone says you’re not the best singer, it slides right off. No big deal. That was just some drunken thing you did. But if someone says you’re not funny , it’s like an indictment against your very being.

Show #2

The next show was at a comic book shop. It was a unique place. It was one third comic book shop, one third coffee shop, and one third arcade. One of the arcade games that really stuck out was Ms. Pac-Man.

They say sex sells, and nowhere in history is that more evident than the sexualization of Ms. Pac-Man. It’s a yellow orb, for christs sake. Could you imagine finishing art school and having your first assignment be “draw a sphere that dudes wanna fuck”. We’re sure young artists didn’t get into the game to eroticize circles (unless they were Japanese).

Executives must’ve thought “There’s no way young men will play this game without some sweet, cartoon ass. Make it nice and leggy. Give ‘er pouty lips and a seductive glance -- something to make pubescent teens cum in their pants and daydream about getting laid”.

The other games in the arcade weren’t nearly as arousing, so we didn’t play them.

The show was fun. The crowd was predominantly comics, with the exception of a few friends who came out. As it was an open mic, we warned our friends not to expect a polished show. Our warning proved to be a good primer - there was at least one guy who was awful. We could see the confused and pained glances of our friends as they tried to be good audience members during bad sets.

Characters you’ll meet at open mic

To clarify - if the ‘awful’ guy had written material that simply didn’t work, we wouldn’t talk smack. We respect anyone who gets up and tries to make jokes work -- that’s the name of the game. But some mic’ers seem like they don’t even know what comedy is. They don’t prepare, and they waste everyones time. This was one of those guys.

Flapping onto the stage in flip-flops and a football jersey, the guy pulled out his phone and read a text exchange with a potential Tinder date, verbatim. Nothing he read was remotely funny. It was five minutes of silent agony from the audience, which didn’t dent his confidence in the slightest (and it should have). Of all the characters you meet in the comedy world, this “time waster” is a front runner in the “most annoying” category. For a full description, see below.

The time waster: Impervious to social cues. Unaware when a set is going horribly. Paces the stage and absently asks “hmm what else” in between half-formed thoughts that got zero laughs. Thinks his ‘riffing’ is great. Doesn’t connect with the audience or receive any laughs, but runs the light and asks “Do I still have time?” as if everyone is thirsting for more.

After, we had dinner with our friends and thanked them for coming out. We were on the road shortly thereafter.

On the move

We left Salt Lake City behind and drove straight to the very den of sin and vice - Las Vegas.