My life changed last weekend! I attended a Stand-Up Comedy Seminar and my 12 classmates were privileged to behold my premier stand-up comedy performance.
The seminar was taught by comedian Joe Matarese. When he called my name, I jumped up and pranced to the center of the stage. I looked up at the microphone, looming in the stand a foot above my head.
After a moment’s consideration, I grabbed the mic and squinted through the spotlight to see the hazy outlines of my classmates.
“Hello. This is my first time on stage.”
“I don’t have anything to say.”
I had nothing. So I started rambling.
I explained my desire to perform comedy because I hate my job.
I painfully recalled how my dreams of fighting professionally were crushed the day I was beat up by a competitive boxer.
Overly specific details flew out of my mouth and were broadcast throughout the club at alarming speed. As it turns out, I reveal embarrassing information about myself whenever I am on a stage with a microphone in my hand and a spotlight in my face.
It was the smoothest set of my career. Coincidentally, it was the awkwardest, shortest, longest, suspect, winningest, most boring, roughest, intriguing, hostile, best, worst, funniest set as well.
Perhaps in addition to my notebook, I should carry a microphone and flashlight around with me at all times. I would probably earn a friend or two with my newly discovered ability to entertain on demand. Then I could write jokes about the experience.
I may have perceived those five minutes on stage differently than anyone else in the room did. Regardless, the experience taught me that the stage is not a scary place. The mic, the cord, the lights; they are all harmless. The audience is more terrifying than the stage could ever be.