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“We thought we’d leave you with a story.”

September 8, 2015

Friday night August 30th, 2002, Laff Stop Houston, Texas

If I can’t go up on stage, I might as well catch a show and see how it’s done.

The marquee reads “Que Locos!”.

“Is this going to show in Spanish?” I ask myself.

I do my best to avoid the waitstaff’s way and catch the show from the stage right hallway. I accidentally bump into the feature act Felipe and watch the opener Armando Cosio finish up his set.

“Great job!” I tell him as he passes me by. I watch the rest of the show from the peanut gallery and head home.

Saturday night, I finish up a video editing session, head to the Laff Stop and once again arrive as Armando is finishing up his set. I congratulate him again on the good job as he leaves the stage. I watch the rest of the show from the peanut gallery again and head home.

Sunday my conscience gets the best of me, I told Armando good set, but I didn’t catch the full set and that just starts to tug at me on the inside. So I arrive early and see Armando, “Hey Mando, I got here early so I could catch your full set.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“By the way, why is the show called Que Locos?”

“It’s a show on Galavision.”

“The Spanish station?”

“Yeah and it’s in English.”

“Cool..  Break a leg”

I watch the rest of Armando’s set, then head to the bar and order a Dr. Pepper.

“Hey Al, Gabe wants to talk to you.”

Armando introduces me to his fluffy friend, Gabriel.

“You a comic?”

“Yeah, well, I just do open mic”

“So what’s your name?”

“Al, Al Bahma… Al B.”

“So Al B, how many minutes do you have?”

“Five, I’m.. ”

“You know what? Check this out.” Gabriel leads me to the side of the stage and points me towards the packed audience.

“See this crowd? This crowd is hot!”

“Yup.”

Then Gabriel points me towards his middle act, “Felipe’s not even doing his best stuff and he’s killing it!”

“Yup.”

“In fact this audience so hot, whoever goes up next will absolutely kill it.”

“Yup.”

“I believe that so much that you’re going up next”

“Yup.”

As soon as I realize what I agreed to, I then feel my heart drop into the pit of my stomach.

“We thought we’d leave you with a story.”

Armando gets up on stage and introduces me, I go up and bomb horribly.

It was craptacular, uncomfortable and quite honestly at the time, I was too dirty for the audience.

Still one joke got in there with a positive response.

“They tell you when you’re nervous in public speaking to imagine the entire audience is naked.

Well I just did that. Now I’m blind.”

Normally it would get a chuckle, this time it was a four second applause break. Feeling that roar of the crowd for the first time on stage is powerful stuff. It’s like a shark tasting blood for the first time.

I was hooked. I want, not want, I need. I need more of this. I need to get better. I need to get funnier.

Even got a souvenir too!

Even got a souvenir too!

Afterwards Armando brings me some birthday cake because it happened to be his birthday. While snacking on cake I ask, “Why me? What about the other better local comics?”

“Yeah, but you’re only one that said hello.”

Featured, Lifestyle, True Lies

For That Full Circle Nicotine Flavor

June 30, 2014

Take these away from me!”, Reed hands me a pack of Menthols as he swears to me, “I got to quit smoking these!”.

The next night I run into another friend, “Hey Landis, you still smoke?”.

Sure.

I hand Landis the pack.

Shortly after a flustered Reed appears, “Does anyone have a cigarette?”.

Landis hands Reed a cigarette from the pack that was originally his.

Featured, Lifestyle, True Lies

Embrace The Heckler

February 10, 2014

On a long enough timeline, we all get heckled. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a paid gig, a comedy contest or an open mic. Heckling is an occupational hazard in the ‘world’s greatest job’.

If you’re brave or foolish enough to step onto a stage and string together some jokes to a point of view, heckling is inevitable. Like everyone working on their stand-up craft, I take my lumps of abuse. My attitude towards heckling is to learn from it and move forward. What else can one do? Let the heckler win, cry myself to sleep, quit doing comedy and crawl into a tear-drenched fetal position of defeat.

I assumed I experienced heckling in all its craven forms, then life proved me wrong.

I’ve experience everything from a random punter in the back yelling out ‘You suck!’ to the misguided patron attempting to ‘enhance’ the show; from bottles being thrown at me to an internet troll posting that my act is ‘rubbish’ from a comment card proclaiming, ‘A case of herpes is funnier’ than me to the disc jockey hosting a comedy contest getting an entire audience to boo in unison.
Saturday night, I head to the local supermarket to buy some fried chicken and coffee. When I get back to my truck, I notice a hand written note on my windshield left for me to read.

You

‘YOU’RE NOT FUNNY!’ proclaims the handwritten note on the back of a receipt with a heart at the end of the exclamation point.
At first I was angry and quite pissed off. Why of all the nerve! I look around and scan the parking lot to see if anyone is watching from afar trying to gauge the impact of their personalised comment.

I flip the receipt over and learn at 11 am they spent $7 for three tacos at El Rey Taqueria, a fast food joint. They spent seven bucks of their own cash for tortillas, cilantro, meat, lettuce and tomatoes. Then I started laughing uncontrollably.

It’s hard for me to take anyone that spends seven bucks for three tacos in Houston, the Tex Mex capital of the world, seriously. That’s like paying £10 for fish and chips in Cardiff. Not only was my heckler afraid heckling me at a proper venue, they are also afraid of real Tex Mex cooked by real Mexicans/Hondurans/Salvadorans. Seriously, what a cowardly douche bag.

Then my mood changed from laughter to pride. I motivated someone. Forget motivated, I moved someone. I actually moved someone to do something beyond yelling ‘Boo!’

They took time out of their lives and noticed my truck. Then they found pen, a scrap of paper and left a personalised handwritten note on my windshield. And they used correct grammar. Great Xerxes’ Ghost! I am motivating people to learn how to read and write!
Instead of funneling their hatred onto something as random as my ethnicity, creed or faith, they took the time to hate me for who I am on stage. I feel like I am living Doctor Martin Luther King’s dream. They say the opposite of love isn’t hate, but indifference. It feels good to be loathed, loathed by cowards.