Memories are funny, no pun intended, but thirty-plus years ago, sitting in a tiny college apartment, I watched a hilarious Howie Mandel show on television. The popular stand-up comic, while on a circular stage for his special, stopped a young woman attempting to leave for the restroom, questioned her from the stage, and embarrassed her thoroughly; then, once she left, had everyone in her section exchange seats with everyone in the corresponding section on the opposite side of the stage and then went back to his routine. Five or ten minutes later, the camera panned to a very confused woman who returned from the bathroom unable to recognize absolutely anyone from her section. Of course, Mandel stopped his routine and made her life miserable again.
Two thoughts remain decades later: Number one, genius. Number two, avoid live comedy shows.
Last night, however, in a moment of weakness, my wife and I went to a show at the famed Hollywood Improv on Melrose. We were basically the first to arrive and took a tall table in the waiting area where we were surrounded by portraits of epic comedians: Joan Rivers. Richard Pryor. Steve Martin. All the legends. A small crowd of fellow early birds soon joined us, and when the time came to line up and head in, you would have thought my wife was flying Southwest what with her sprint to the front of the line. So, we were seated first, where the following exchange occurred:
Host: Where would you like to sit?
Wife (turning to repeat the question to me): Where would you like to sit? (note: very thoughtful)
Me: Totally up to you, Sweetheart. (note: always the correct response)
This was followed by Jody taking us to the front row where it was obvious we would be able to look up the nostrils of the comedians as they stood in our laps. Old Howie Mandel memories came flooding back as I broke out in a quiet sweat.
I am pleased to report that it turned out great. We were joined by two equally-terrified-to-be-sitting-on-the-front-row young women in town from El Paso, Texas, and we just had a great time. Counting the cold opener and the host, there were eight comedians spread over two straight hours of laughter, and I thought they were all fantastic. Our seatmates got put on the hot seat once, but we were surprisingly spared the spotlight all evening. Apparently, I am so boring that even eight consecutive comedians took multiple looks at a strange/tall/bald man directly in their face and said, Um, we’re going to pass on that one. For once in my life, I didn’t mind at all.
I got to thinking on the way home: I am happy that there are places in the world where you can go just to laugh. When Jim Valvano gave his inspirational/dying speech at the original ESPYs, of the three things he said everyone should do every day, he said, “Number one is laugh.”
Now not everyone loved every part of the show. Afterward, in the valet parking line, what appeared to be an elderly mother escorted by her son was making it clear that she did not appreciate certain comedians AT ALL, but you know, it seems to me, and you have every right to disagree, that sometimes comics find a way to say out loud what many think but are afraid to say, and in so doing help others discover that they aren’t alone in the world after all. And what a relief that is – not to be alone.
We’ll be back for another Evening at the Improv, and I might not be so lucky next time. But if that’s the case, maybe I’ll bump into that unfortunate soul from the Howie Mandel show and we’ll have a good laugh about it together.
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