When I decided to become a comic a little over two years ago, I had no idea what kind of world I was entering. Up until that point in my life, I had always been employed in some kind of profession that required you to be, you know, professional. This meant there were certain assumptions about the way you behaved and just generally ran your life.
Just to cite one small example, in my previous jobs, the other employees rarely showed up stoned. And reeking of alcohol. That rarely goes over well in status meetings. Also, it was commonly assumed that you had a car. Or at least, you know, a current, non-suspended driver's license. And, if I saw white powder under your nose, I pretty much guessed you grabbed a powdered doughnut out of the break room.
This sure the hell hasn't been the case in standup comedy.
True story: I once went on a road trip with four people to a comedy show in North Carolina, yet I had to drive 50% of the time because two comics didn't have a valid license.
True story: I once had to leave a club because the comic I was hanging out with was caught with cocaine powder under his nose and got kicked out.
True fact: All the "carpooling" I've been doing in the last two months, with comics going to the same show, has happened in my personal car.
True fact: I had only seen any form of illegal drug maybe a dozen times from high school to about two years ago. Now it's rare that I go a whole week.
I'm not complaining. I love standup comedy, and the herky-jerky, unexpected, and sometimes extralegal experiences that come along with it. I don't do drugs, but hey, I can drink at work. How many of you can say that? I don't remember there ever being a beer tap in any corporate break room I've ever been in.
It's a whole new world. It's just...different.
I love you all. Make me famous.