Let’s go!

We couldn’t have asked for a better start to our trip. Washington, D.C. was the first stop on our southern tour, and after a two month standup hiatus we were excited to shake off the rust. We arrived in DC at the night before the show and were anxious about where to park the van for the night. We had read forums and sites about where vandwellers sleep, but we were still nervous.

After a lengthy discussion we agreed to spend the night in a Walmart parking lot. Being van newbies, we weren’t sure which spots would be ‘conspicuous’ or not. We now know that no one gives a shit, but back then we thought anyone caught sleeping in a vehicle would face beheading.

Walmart is LIT

Rather than park on the outskirts of the lot (i.e. far away from noise), we parked a few rows away from the entrance (i.e. noise central). Below is the hour-by-hour recap of events of that evening.

1 a.m.
The cart guy decided now was the best time to bring every single cart that has ever existed  into the store in a banging, metallic cacophony.

2 a.m.
A middle-aged man driving a ’94 Cutlass Ciera decided to park right next to us to do what every reasonable adult does on Tuesday at 2 a.m., and blasts Reggaeton. Meanwhile, a person parked diagonally from us connected their phone to their cars speaker system for the loudest phone call ever recorded.

3 a.m.
Not to be outdone by Reggaeton Reggie and Speaker Sam, some cowpoke parked in front of us and blasted country music at decibels surpassing a jet engine. This parking lot was seriously not big enough for the two of us.

5 a.m.
A couple parked - WHERE ELSE – right next to us, and emerged from the store embroiled in a bitter fight. The lady heatedly reminded the gentleman that her items needed to be returned to the shelves because he didn’t have enough money. The gentleman, trying his best to remain level-headed, hissed through gritted teeth “Don’t say dat. I’ll SNAP”. Undeterred, the lady vigorously prodded on until he DID snap, whereupon she received what we can only assume was the most vitriolic harangue of all time (I say ‘assume’, because it was in what sounded like Arabic, so I can’t be sure just how venomous it was.) Providing background music was their child, doing his part by wailing “Eehhhhhhhhh. AAAHhhhHHHH Aahhhhhh!!” throughout the entire quarrel.

6 a.m.
We got ambushed in what can only be described as ‘The Great Seagull Uprising of 2018’. After a fitful 45 minutes of sleep we were jerked awake by the sudden and ferocious pecking of A THOUSAND seagulls on the roof. We had no idea what the hell was going on; it sounded like a lashing downpour of marbles and hex bolts. In our sheet-metal echo chamber of a van, anything that pings the roof sounds like firecrackers exploding between cymbals.

8 a.m.
Our makeshift curtain, which was a towel clamped over a window, fell on Dan C. He belted the bloodcurdling scream of a man being bayoneted. It was so deafening a shriek it made the Seagull Uprising sound like a soft breeze. Thinking Dan was being flayed alive, I kicked the wall in an attempt to hobble any would-be intruder, only to smash my own toes. I finally saw what was happening - Dan was thrashing around with the towel as if he were a fish caught in a net. That was the last straw; we knew sleep simply wasn’t in the cards. With bleary-eyed resignation we got up and started the day.

No Parking

Later that evening we arrived outside the comedy club and began our search for parking, which is no easy task when piloting what is essentially a ten thousand pound railroad tie with the turning radius of an aircraft carrier.

Tourists and onlookers alike became visibly uneasy as they witnessed the same two disheveled guys repeatedly circle the block in an unmarked white van, wildly gesticulating at open spots as if designating where to throw pipe bombs. We’d approach a parking spot, gauge its size, attempt to parallel park, botch the angle, panic, and burn rubber down the block. We looked like an IRA/Al-Qaeda duo failing drivers ed.

After about 30 minutes (or seventeen 9-1-1 calls from concerned citizens) we finally happened upon a space near the venue. Slipping the vans giant bulk into the parking spot without touching adjacent cars was like playing a vehicular version of Operation. The sea of spectators judging every turn of the wheel certainly didn’t help alleviate any stress. As we inched closer to each bumper, clusters of people began watching with bated breath. The spectators yearned to hear the oh-so-satisfying crunch of shattered tail lights.

There’s something about parallel parking that makes everyone stop what they’re doing and watch. Maybe they want to feel better about their own parking skills. Maybe they love watching others fail. In our case, it was because our van blares an eardrum-shattering back up sound when put in reverse. It’s impossible not to look.

To the crowds dismay, we parked without issue and hopped out of the van. The defeated crowd shuffled off as we stood back to admire the park job. Crammed between two eco-friendly sub-compact cars, the van resembled the fat friend who squeezes into group selfies.

Showtime

The area around the venue was beautiful. Situated on the waterfront, it was surrounded by restaurants and bars connected by cobblestone streets. The mic was held in the lower level of a bar with a great setup - there was a small stage, dim lighting, and chairs facing front. It was a nice, intimate environment for comedy.

After getting the lay of the land we heard the airy flap of paper being slapped on the bar, signifying that the host had put the list out. We zoomed over, as signing up before the rush can save hours of waiting.

The order comics perform in is unique at each mic, but generally your spot is determined by lottery or list. Lottery (or bucket) is when the host selects your name randomly. Lists, as you would imagine, are numbered sheets where you write your name in the order you wish to go. Sounds simple, but it’s often changed last-minute to accommodate friends or features.

We signed up for slots one and two, eager to jump headfirst back into standup. The joke was on us. We ended up going 10th and 12th out of 14. It didn’t matter. We got up, did our time, and had a great audience response.

After the show ended we went back to the Walmart parking lot - but learned to park wayyy on the outskirts. It would still take some time until we figured out actual good places to park, but back in the early days we didn't know what we were doing.

The following morning we had a quick breakfast and were on our way to Richmond.