I’m feelin’ it

We got into town pretty late after driving from Pittsburgh. We didn’t hit a mic our first night in Virginia Beach - we saw a show to get a feel for the local comedy scene. The show was broken up into two halves - the first half was amateurs, the second half pros. The clock was ticking on our two-hour parking spot - we could only stay for the first half.

‘Amateur’ sounds like a standard competence, but there are levels. Some amateur guys have done comedy for a few weeks, others for a few years. As a result some of the performances were really good, others less so. Mid-show there was a string of about three or four comics that failed to rouse laughter from the audience … and then something strange happened. It was one of those things that even if repeated verbatim, could never work the same. Something was in the air that night.

A goofy guy stumbled onto the stage, doe-eyed, looking in all directions. People were already chuckling based on his appearance. When he got to the mic, he surveyed the audience with a doofus grin and said “It’s getting hot in here!”. He went to pull off his hoodie, but accidentally grabbed his undershirt with it and neither came off -- they got stuck around his head and he flailed around as if trapped in a net.

After about fifteen seconds he emerged from the hoody, red-faced and breathless. A wave of laughter had already begun to spread through the room. He stumbled to the fore of the stage saying “Haha, whoops!” and as he reached for the mic stand, it collapsed. From there, it only got worse (better).

I don’t know how mentalism or groupthink works, but we were all under a spell that evening. To laugh at this guy, several gaps in propriety needed to be hurdled -- and everyone leapt with gusto. It started like “Oh, God. I’m not sure if this guy’s mentally all there, we probably shouldn’t laugh” and a chuckle was suppressed.

Just as everyone thought their laughter was under control, the dude bumbled around and told a joke that was so stupid, the laughs couldn’t be contained. Pockets of cackles and guffaws sprung up throughout the room. The urge to laugh grew. It was like laughing in a library or at a funeral - the harder you try to stop, the funnier it becomes.

Everyone thought “God this is terrible, are we all laughing at this guy? We have to stop!” but the more we fought it, the worse it became. A dull roar now echoed throughout the room, and the guy took it as laughter at his jokes. Emboldened, he energetically paced the stage and crashed shin-first into the stool, launching it across the room. The crowd erupted. People were rolling in the aisles. Thoughts of holding back laughter were a distant memory replaced by “Holy fuck, this is incredible”.

We live in a divisive time. Arguments break out over politics, the economy, and social issues ad nauseam. Men and women are often at odds. Even comedy clubs are divided by perceptions of what constitutes free speech. But when this dude made a joke comparing his Tinder date to a hurricane and then tripped over the mic cord, the roof blew off. Everyone  was doubled over, clutching their chests and gasping for air. People of all races, colors, creeds, and genders pounded their fists on the table and wiped tears from their eyes. It was an extraordinary moment.

When his set was over, it felt like that movie moment where the evil mind-control plan is foiled and the hypnotized populace wakes up not knowing where they are or how they got there.

We knew something special had occurred, we just weren’t sure what. Even the host came up after the set and said “What did I just watch?”.

Psychological analysis

On the ride back to a Walmart parking lot, Dan and I tried to figure out what it was about that set that had everyone so spellbound. The only conclusion we could draw was it tapped into an ancient part of the human brain.

Throughout human history and evolution, specific actions and events recurred frequently enough to leave indelible marks on the psyche. Certain things are hardwired to elicit laughter. I’ll give two examples.

The first are farts. Farts are the great unifier. Rich or poor, famous or anonymous, smart or dumb, it makes no difference; farts are funny. You could visit an uncontacted tribe from the depths of the darkest jungle with zero linguistic, cultural, or moral commonalities. Your best efforts to communicate could fail miserably. But if you bend over to grab your bags before leaving and cut a fart, everyone will laugh.

The second are physical gags. Fools have entertained kings and commoners alike since the dawn of civilization. From the Egyptians to the Romans to the Aztecs, everyone loved laughing at a buffoon. We realized that this dude was basically a modern day court jester. The deep laughter hearkened back to when jesters clumsily pranced around castles with tinkling bells atop silly hats. The audience couldn’t stop laughing because this shit has been burned into brains for thousands of years.

Watching the comic trip over a mic cord was the modern-day equivalent of our ancestors watching a jester take a header into a cake. Watching the comic bellow terrible jokes into the mic was like watching a jester blow bubbles out of a trumpet. The entire set was hysterical in a deeply instinctive way, and trying to replicate it would be like trying to catch lightning in a bottle.

Our turn

The first mic we did was at a place called Your Alibi’s Bar and Grill, and it was amazing. For comics: if you’re in VA Beach and want to perform, you need to go there. 10 minute sets, no content restrictions, and it’s full of really funny, talented people. It’s in a nice dive bar with a really open atmosphere, and it attracts real audiences. Even toward the end of the show, at 1 a.m., audience members were still sharing laughs. It was an excellent mic and we’ll definitely go back.

The following day we hit a mic in Newport News called Cozzy’s. It’s a dedicated comedy club that draws real audiences and awesome comics. Overall, the comedy scene was really inclusive - to the point that when we arrived at the next mic, some comics and audience already knew who we were.

We signed up and another comic said “Oh, you’re the Dan’s!”. It turned out he was friends with the host of Alibi’s and they had talked. We even saw some of the same audience members from the previous night. It’s so cool when the audience appreciates comedy enough to travel and stay late to watch. We enjoyed the show and connected with a lot of comics.

Movin on up

After the show we realized all of our batteries were dead. Laptops, phones, and even our portable generator. After all of the cities we visited, it was time to finally bite the bullet and get a motel for the night. We found a place not to far from the comedy club and decided to check in.

You ever drive past a dingy looking motel on a desolate stretch of road and think “I could blow my head off in there”? That’s where we stayed. Even though the wallpaper peeled, the lights flickered, and the carpet smelled, it was a step up.

We look shady everywhere we go. When we began living on the road we had fresh haircuts and trimmed beards. At this point, we look like Robin Williams after escaping Jumanji.

People don’t know what to make of us - especially when we pull into a motel at 12 a.m. and ask for a room. We’re too unkempt to be gay guys but also too gross to attract women. We kinda look like greasy porn producers -- especially when we unpack a bunch of cameras from a carpeted van that has a couch in it.

Sleeping in a warm bed was nice but we didn’t want to get too comfortable. We checked out early the next morning and enjoyed the motel’s continental breakfast: a tepid cup of coffee accompanied by nothing.

After Virginia beach we ventured down to Savannah, GA.