So, our comedy tour went international at the last moment. We left after our sets at the Edge Comedy Club in Chicago to head back to Boston. The show was fun. The room was really big, but the smallish crowd was seated very well, and they clearly came to laugh. Shawn and I worked out some new material, which I think we both developed to a satisfying degree. Hooray for writing!
Anyway, we hit the road, and the labor was split pretty evenly. Shawn did the driving, and I napped and changed the music on my iPod every time I woke up. At about 6am, Robot, our trusty GPS told us to take an exit on the right. Strangely, that exit bore a sign labeled “BRIDGE TO CANADA,” which is funny because our GPS had never mentioned that we would be entering ANOTHER FLIPPING COUNTRY. So we went, because we had to leave Michigan somehow. The conversation we had at the border went like this (Imagine the Customs Agent with an intense Canadian accent.)
CA: What are you guys doing in Canada?
Us: Just driving back to Boston.
CA: Ookay. Are you going to make any stops?
Us: Just for gas.
CA: Well, have fun.
We drove three hours through Ontario, passing many towns with dubiously high population counts and calculating our speed in kilometers. Finally, we reached the border to our own country, where we sat in line for about 1/2 hour waiting at customs. Then we had this conversation with the stoic US Customs agent:
Us (handing over licenses): United States.
CA: Do you boys have your birth certificates?
Us: Actually we didn’t know we were going to Canada.
CA: Well, did you figure it out?
Us: The Welcome to Canada sign and customs checkpoint were tip offs.
CA: What were you doing there?
Us: We’re comedians. We were on tour in Chicago.
CA: Then tell me a joke.
Me: So a door-to-door salesman knocks on a door. A 14 year old boy answers it. The kid is wearing a cocktail dress and high heels. He’s got a blonde wig on with full makeup. In one hand he holds a cigarette, and in the other, a martini. The salesman, clearly flustered, asks the boy: “Uhh, son. Is your mother home?” “The fuck do you think?” the kid replies. (Thanks Frank Santorelli)
CA (after five seconds of silence): Oh, yeah. I get it. Well, good luck, boys. I hope you make it.
Then a breezy 8 hour drive home! Here we are! Thanks for reading everyone. I will continue to post about adventures here. Thanks for all the love and support.
Josh (and Shawn)