Attending My First Stand-up Comedy Show Was Just What I Needed

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This past weekend, I attended my first live stand-up comedy show. I’ve always wanted to see one, but I never made the effort. I hope those days are behind me. What a thing to see, especially if you love comedy and stand-up. Humor saves, solves, sees us, and sends us to better places — if it does it right, namely by punching up instead of down.

For the record, punching up is making light of something more powerful than you. Punching down, well, not cool. Even though punching-down humor can be clever, it doesn’t mean it’s good. All kinds of cleverness have existed through history, but not all of it was helpful or good for the world. Bad things can be clever.

You can always use yourself as the gag, otherwise known as self-deprecating humor. There’s some nuance there, such as making sure that when you make fun of yourself, you aren’t bashing a group of like-minded people. You’re genuinely saying, “Oh, silly me.”

Others have the choice to hop on board: Yeah. Same here. Otherwise, you’re choosing for them. The former gets laughs. The latter diminishes.

I went to this recent comedy show because one of my writing friends was trying his hand at stand-up, and it wasn’t too far from my house. I figured, what not? I drove into DC — not a picnic for my suburban self — but I gritted it out thanks to Netflix Is A Joke Radio on Sirius. I was a little nervous because I barely knew this writing friend, but once I chatted it up with the lady taking the tickets at the door — she was crocheting a hat and I’m a knitter — the night opened up.

As with everything my shy self worries over, my extroverted self swept in and had fun for both of me.

Two newbies opened the show — my friend was one — then came two experienced comedians, and last, a headliner. I watched with a curious eye, listening to the writing that sat behind the performances, and paying attention to the pacing and acting. We’re all drawn to acting, but the more I write, the more I notice the script behind the acting, whether comedic or dramatic. One of my goals in attending the show was to observe how important acting and writing were to the success of the performance. Would one rule over the other?

My answer: I don’t think so. They give each other life.

That’s how it is with stories, including the one running daily in our heads. Action depends on a script. Once acted upon, the script has come to life. Now you have a story that is alive and well — in a movie, a stand-up act, or in our heads. The story can be happy, funny, sad, cruel, or horrific — and it can continue ad infinitum. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe not.

The headliner of the show got down on the floor on his stomach at one point to act out the joke he was telling. This is when my interest in his act peaked. It was no longer just words accentuated with a clearly rehearsed grin. It was in the flesh, and you could feel it.

The main thing I brought to the show, even more than a curious eye, was compassion for my writer friend. I knew he had to be nervous, going up on stage to deliver his first stand-up routine. He hinted a bit at this earlier, and it would be uncommon if he didn’t feel this way. There was nothing I could do to save him from this, but of course, true to form, I wanted to. If I can help someone feel more at ease, I want to, but sometimes the journey is theirs alone. I’m slowly learning.

So, I was like, Go forth, little buckaroo, and do your best. He did. He used props and physical humor, a fleshed-out storyline with specificity, satirically obvious misdirection, and call-backs. I’d long contemplated trying my hand at stand-up, and now I can easily say, after seeing that show, no thanks. It looks like a heck of a lot of work. A lot of work is something I don’t shy away from, but I have to pick and choose, and stand-up seems like more than I can carry now.

Plus, let’s be honest, the shy part of me was dumbstruck sitting in that bar in DC, looking at those performers on stage. Kudos to them.

Massive thanks, too. Humor is a lifeline. I use it in my coaching, in my head as a beacon of hope, as a mother and friend, and just in general. We don’t always laugh, nor should we, but if it’s not inappropriate, please, by all means, laugh. Or giggle. Or even a little tilt upwards of the corners of the mouth. Do I even need to explain? It’s obvious. There is so much pain out there — yesterday, today, tomorrow.

Laugh.

If you put hours into writing something that will make others amused, thank you. If you put even more hours into memorizing that writing, performing it in front of a mirror, and then executing it on stage, thank you more so. That’s a lot of effort to try to make others happy.

Comedians are important. Comedy writers are a gift. Think of SNL, The Onion, McSweeney’s, Seinfeld, Arrested Development, and the greatest of them all, The Office. Don’t try to argue with me on that one. I will win, but only after I try to make you laugh. I’d probably use props and a lot of facial expressions. I’d use silly hand motions and language that was as descriptive as it was purposely daft.

Look at me. I’m imagining doing stand-up to convince you of the preeminence of The Office.

I’d better stop. I know where this could lead. A stage.

I’m happy in the audience. I’m grateful for all you generous, funny people. Keep it up. We all need laughs. Desperately. Everyday.

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Cheers, my friends!