Bar Gigs.

Bar gigs are shitty.  There’s no way around it.  I don’t mean shows at a bar.  You can do a comedy show at a bar.  A bar gig is a different beast.  A bar gig involves no stage, a wireless microphone and usually 20-50 who didn’t come to that particular bar to listen to your joke-making ass.  This last one was exception.  All I can say is imagine you went out to the local bar with your friends, you just bought a round, when the jukebox stops.  You look up from your Bud Bottle to see a troupe of Shakespearean actors getting together in the corner; doing cumberbund stretches and warming up their voices.  It’s kinda like that, except without the safety in numbers an actor’s troupe provides.   This last bar gig was no exception.

 I had the weekend free, and my friend, who happens to run a bar from their parents hadn’t seen my stand up in about three years.  So he thought it’d be a win-win situation to throw me up at his parent’s bar for about 30 minutes on a Saturday night.  It’s a lovely bar, and if you’re ever out in the backwoods of New Jersey I highly recommend stopping in for the best steak you’ll ever have in your life.

The Red Wolf Inn

Unfortunately, I wasn’t there for steak.  I mean I had one, but hell it was free.  I was there to tell jokes, and the majority of the crowd was there to get wasted.  It didn’t go well.  I ended up doing 45 minutes, just because it was fun for me to fuck with people that didn’t enjoy my shit.  A wireless mic and an angry mick can often be a very funny combination.  I wish I could tell you that I won the crowd over and turned the mic off to thunderous applause.  But that’s not how it goes down at a bar gig.  It basically ends with a, “I’m Chris McDevitt… I hope you had a good time.” and then you avert your eyes as you make your way outside to smoke and pretend you didn’t just eat shit for 3/4ths of an hour.  Before I got to the door, I stopped and took a photograph of myself, so you could see exactly how well my set went.

That's me, blocking the fire exit.

It’s sweaty, nasty work.  But it is work.  Honest work.  I probably made a fan or two that night.  But more importantly, I told some jokes instead of laying back in my Superman bed reading John Grisham; I got free dinner for myself and my girlfriend, and I walked out of there with $40 bucks in cold hard cash.  More importantly though, I got to hang out with my friends that I hadn’t seen in a while.  And my friend got my girl wasted on a drink he invented called an “Erotic Passion” which apparently contains a Polish alcohol of a higher proof than Everclear.

Chris McDevitt with Shihan Dayne Walz and his girlfriend, Dee.

I can certainly think of worse ways to spend a Saturday night.

Advertisements

~ by chrismcdevitt on June 2, 2007.

One Response to “Bar Gigs.”

  1. I never want to see that sweaty picture again.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

 
%d bloggers like this: