Thursday April 28th, 2011 - St. Charles, IL I’m a complainer. Always have been. I’m not sure why, I just do. I try to look for all the positives in a given situation, but sometimes it’s just a lot easier to bellyache, piss, moan, bitch, whine or blow off steam about something. It’s funnier too. There’d no need for any jokes if life was perfect, and I realize that. Still, sometimes it feels good just to unload. Today wasn’t one of those times. I had a show tonight at Zanies in St. Charles, IL at the Pheasant Run Resort, and I’ve been in that situation literally more times than I can count. I’ve worked on that stage since the club opened in 1989, and have no idea of the number of shows I’ve done on it but it has to be up into the hundreds. I know it is. I’m a regular. As I was on stage tonight, my comedy life flashed in front of my eyes. It was a typical week night crowd at a comedy club, and there were maybe 60 or 70 people in the house. They were a little tight most of the night and not the loudest of laughers. They weren’t a bad group, but they weren’t the kind of dream audience that’s red hot from the very start. Maybe I’m spoiled, or maybe my complaining gene kicked in, but when the host Vince Maranto came over after his opening set and joked about how tight he thought they were, I flinched a little. I didn’t want to hear that. I have enough problems in my life right now. Sure enough, by the time I got up there I saw he was right. Vince has been a comic even longer than me, and I had no reason to second guess his judgment. He totally knows what he’s talking about, and I’m lucky to have such a competent and experienced host as he is. I could have easily phoned the show in, and that thought did run through my mind more than a few times as I watched the show develop, but what would that prove? If I’m going to call myself a comedian, that means working to the best of my ability, even in situations like this. It’s a weeknight in St. Charles, IL but I don’t care. I decided to give them my all. I went up there and used every one of my years of experience to establish an energy and rhythm on stage and it took me a while but I eventually pounded them hard enough to get out of their funk and get with the program. By the end of the show I didn’t want to get off stage. They turned into a wonderful group, but it took a lot of hard work to bring that out. These are the kind of shows I dreamed about when I started. Taking a dead audience to where they ended up is nothing short of a miracle, and not many people can do it. I know I couldn’t when I started, and it’s only been in the last few years that I really know I’m at a level of competence to be able to do it on at least a semi regular basis. This took a skill that most people aren’t willing to sacrifice themselves to learn. It literally took a lifetime. After the show, people were lining up to shake my hand and tell me how funny I was. It made me feel a sense of accomplishment, because I know I earned it. Was it worth all that hard work to achieve it? Sometimes I wonder in the long run, but for tonight it felt like all my efforts came together. This was more than just a Thursday show. It was a life mirror.
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