Stranger things

After the show in Memphis, we gassed up the van and drove several hours due west. Around midnight we began that heavy-lidded nodding that happens when you’re fighting to stay awake behind the wheel. It was time to pull over for some rest.

We took the nearest exit off an anonymous stretch of highway into a nondescript little town. We headed straight to a Walmart parking lot and immediately went to sleep. When we woke early the next morning, something about the town felt off. There was an indescribable yet definite strangeness that we couldn’t quite put a finger on. We would’ve stewed longer on the topic but our stomachs cried out in protest.

Most tiny roadside towns along the highway have staples like IHOP, Holiday Inn, and Pilot gas stations, but this town had none of ‘em - which heightened the strange vibe. With no IHOP in town we decided to go off-brand and hit a Waffle House.

As we drove through town the feeling of strangeness began to reemerge. Looking around, everything seemed almost right. It felt like a time travel movie where one small action in the past created a slightly altered present. Like if there used to be a Sunoco on the corner, it’s now a Texaco. The cashier still has the same name, but now he’s goth.

It wasn’t until we arrived at our breakfast destination that we began to piece things together. On the surface, everything about the restaurant seemed in order. There were the familiar yellow and black text blocks spelling ‘Waffle’ largely on top. However beneath ‘Waffle’ did not stand the word ‘House’, but ‘Shoppe’. It was a knockoff of a knockoff. With nearly identical names and logos, it’s easy to see how people mistake it for the brand name. It was some real Malt-O-Meal shit.

Bootlegs

It finally dawned on us what was so strange about this place: every business was a generic store-brand. The whole town was a bowl of Fruity Dino Bites. They didn’t have Waffle House; they had Waffle Shoppe. Looking for a Holiday Inn? Sorry, don’t have one - try the Vacation Lodge. Need to fuel up? There’s no Pilot Gas Station but ‘round the corner is an Aviator Fuel Depot.

We wondered how deep it went. Did the people of this town think originals were bootlegs? Would they scoff if they saw a name brand? It’d be amazing if we asked where the AMC movie theater was and someone said “You mean the AMZ?”. If we inquired about showtimes for Transformers or Kung Fu Panda, would they respond “Huh?! You mean Transmorphers and Chop Kick Panda?”.

With its hard-to-place identity, the town was a physical representation of our preconceived notions about Oklahoma. Truth be told, we didn’t know anything about the states identity. Geographically Oklahoma is in the south and center of the U.S., so we didn’t know if it’s culturally more southern or midwestern. The only thing we knew for sure was the state looked like a butcher's cleaver.

We found out Oklahomans shared the best parts of each. They were friendly and talkative like Midwesterners and gave the hospitality of southerners. It was really nice.

Welcome to the North Pole

By the time we reached Tennessee our whole ‘stay in warm places’ plan had run off course. When we got to Tulsa, we had veered into iceberg infested waters. The place was arctic. The city was in the grips of a polar vortex when we arrived. Everyone had the exact same joke, too: “If you don’t like the weather, just wait ten minutes!”.

The first mic we had scheduled was downtown. When we arrived, most of the streets were blocked by police vehicles with flashing lights. We thought something terrible like an ISIS attack had happened, but then thought better of it. What kind of statement would they make in Tulsa, of all places?

Party Time

We went to the bar where our first mic was scheduled and the bartender informed us the roads were closed for Mardi Gras. Police blocked the streets so pedestrians could enjoy the festivities. It all made sense in theory but in practice everything was still strange.

Usually when you think of Mardi Gras, images of crowded streets, loud music, dancing, brightly colored outfits, and general craziness spring to mind. Mardi Gras in Tulsa looked more like a zombie march. Disjointed bands of people in drab clothes shuffled lifelessly through the streets.

Every group of friends has that one person who needs to be dragged out kicking and screaming. Let’s call him/her ‘Sam’. Sam got married and now hates being out past 9 p.m. You basically need a cattle prod to keep Sam moving. In Tulsa, every group looked like a bunch of Sams got together and were forced to go clubbing. People have marched to mass graves with more enthusiasm.

Showtime

Even though Mardi Gras was a moribund affair, the mic had been cancelled because of it. The bars must have anticipated pandemonium. Instead, bars were sparsely populated by middle aged people slowly drinking Bud Lights with the liveliness of someone ‘just following orders’.

We’re giving Tulsa a bit of shit here but we actually really liked the city. It had a nice downtown and the people were awesome. After the mic was cancelled we reached out to the local comedy club and they pointed us in the right direction for another show.

We ended up doing a show at the VFW and all the comics we talked to were great. They told us about different shows throughout the week and even offered us places to crash.

Getting to know other comics is honestly one the best - if not the best - part of doing comedy. We’re at a point now where we’re starting to see people we’ve met in other cities at shows and it’s awesome to have that big network.

After freezing it out in Tulsa we drove West into Arkansas. We were excited for our next show in Fayetteville.