So yesterday was auditions for Last Comic Standing at Caroline's. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I wanted to bother since being an accountant and all, I calculated my odds of making it on the show at infinitesimal and my odds of catching pneumonia at even money. But since I'm a gambler, an idiot and have a fully stocked medicine cabinet, I went anyway.
That would be Mistake Number One.
To prove the "idiot" part, I actually wore a suit as I figured that if I were close to the front of the line, maybe I could get to work for a half day.
Quickly, we're up to Mistake Numero Dos.
After sleeping for four hours the previous evening, I woke up around 4:30 AM...even my dog, who always jumps out of bed when I do wasn't having any of it. He sat there watching me with an "Dude, you're joking, right? It's fucking 5 AM!!" look on his face.
ANYWAY, I manage to get to the line by 5:30 AM - It was dark and about 30 degrees. I saw a few buds at the beginning in their sleeping bags, having gotten there at 6:30 PM the previous night. Around the corner, a couple of hundred comics from the entrance I spot a few regulars from the Monday NYCC open mic. They invite me to join them. "Cool," I think, while laughing at those who spent the night.
That was Mistake Number Three (the laughing and cutting part...karma will get ya every time).By the way, it wasn't 6:00 AM yet and I was already up to three mistakes in my day...much like Hitler's decision to invade Russia in the dead of winter and/or David Caruso's decision to leave NYPD Blue for a movie career, I think we know how this is gonna end.
I ended up spending twelve hours in line (keep reading though as that's not nearly the best part). I'll say this - the first seven, maybe even eight hours were fun, well, relatively fun, as I I'm not sure that I'd wanna do anything for eight hours in a row. Here were a few of the activities that kept us amused:
Since we were by a corner, people walking by were asking us what the line was for. Here were some of our reasons -
1. Since it was mainly guys on line, we were filming a sequel to the Houston 500 gangbang
2. Government cheese - we were Waiting for Gouda.
3. Menudo Reunion Tour - One guy said, "Wow. really?" I think he may've gotten on line.
4. We were waiting for the bar to open (and I asked someone if they had any whiskey on them).
Any time one of us made a joke that fell flat, one of us would say, "Man, you should TOTALLY open with that in there! That's Gold!"
Example: Someone mentioned that they're looking for controversy so they may wanna go in and just start throwing around the N-Bomb in there. See sentence above for next line.
Every five minutes, or so it seemed, we'd find ourselves staring at Larry King's evil visage on a billboard (seriously, when looking north on Broadway, check it out on the left hand side - as someone mentioned, he looks like Skeletor evilly grinning) and someone would do an impression of him either accepting a viewer call or making a prank call to an unsuspecting viewer ("Ozark, Alabama! You're on the air!", "But why? Who'd you say this was?") - good times...well, for the first seven or so hours. Believe it or not, that got a liiiiittle played after a while (though not as much as you'd think...maybe we were delirious)
Here are some other things you would find yourself discussing when you have 12 hours on line to kill.....
"Would you be here if it was raining? How about snowing? If it were five degrees colder? Ten? Let's say it was ten degrees older and there were flurries? What if it were five degrees warmer but it was raining locusts?"
"Look at that sign over there" (pointing at Charley O's) "It says, "Bar and Grill and Bar." (It did) "That's hilarious."
Someone else (doing Seinfeld impression) - "What's the deal with bars that have signs that say, 'Bar and Grill and Bar'" Are they afraid we missed it the first time?"
"Dude, you should TOTALLY open with that!
"How much change would it take for you to pick it up off the ground? A quarter? No!? What a about a buck? Yes? Okay, what if it were four quarters instead of a dollar? Okay, what if it were 20 nickels?" (Actually, I made this conversation up...though I have had it with friends while we hung out at bars).
At around 1-2 o'clock they told the back part of the line that they should go home as there was no chance they would be seen. While some did go home, others just cut the line. We let one guy in who we knew. Little did I know the consequences.
That would be Mistake Number Four.
Long story short (I know...too late), the next three hours were fairly miserable. We would all push whenever the doors to opened, and when we finally got to the front of the line, we were so packed, someone mentioned that they should rename the show "Last Comic Spooning" (I told him that he should TOTALLY open with that!).
Every time a comic came out not flashing a white piece of paper that said they made the callback, some of the comics on line serenaded him/her with, "Better luck next year," or "Hey, you gave it your all" or something like that.
That Would Be Mistake Number One for them (see: karma)
The whole time I was with a group of five or six comics....we were all right at the door. There were still at least a hundred behind us. They let a few more in....including most of "our gang," including the dude we let cut in...Lara and I were at the door, our noses pressed against it, gazing into The Promised Land. Then this woman came out.
"I'm so sorry but we can't see any more people."
As the comics behind us started cursing at her (seriously), Lara and I just stood there, looking at each other. mouths agape. Seriously, what are you gonna do? (Well, some would say, "Curse.")
After listening to more curses, the woman said that they are having auditions in Miami next week and we should go there. No, I'm not kidding. Quite frankly, I wanted to beat the crap out of her.
As I started walking home, tears welling up in my eyes (allergies), I looked up to ask God, "Why?!? Why me?!?" but all I saw was Larry King and his effin' evil face.
Rock On,
Aitch
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2 comments:
I wasn't going to audition but now I am totally inspired by your moving and touching story about a man who beat the odds and rose to the top...of the line.
Hey new york city diary,
My story wasn't sposed to be inspiring...it was sposed to be deflating...that way fewer peeps will try out, so the line will be shorter, so maybe, just maybe, I can be humiliated INSIDE this year, rather than outside.
rock on,
aitch
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