I know it seems like I blog about as frequently as Haley’s comet crashes into the leaning tower of Pisa (see: never), but really it’s a direct link with how often I do comedy outside of the northeast. And, whuh-oh! The place is here (Atlanta), and the time is now (now).
I left Boston yesterday after a hard day’s preschool teachin’ and took an airplane to Atlanta, Georgia. In Boston, there were intermittent snow flurries yesterday, and the temperature hovered around 37 degrees. Now I’m in “Hot-lanta,” as the natives would probably slap me for calling it, and the sun is shining and the weather might top out at a balmy 50 degrees today.
I had the good fortune of sitting in an emergency exit row on the plane, with a seat between me and my closest neighbor. I wanted to take a picture of my impressive leg room, but I figured it would look like I was casing the joint for some future terrorist activity. On the flight, I read about half of the book The Hardest Working Man, the story of how James Brown’s Boston Garden concert the night after Dr. Martin Luther King’s assassination stopped potential race riots all over Beantown. I figured this book was an apt beginning to my trip, since in Atlanta I might see actual black people (unlike in Boston where we hide them away from convenient public transportation or commercial areas).
Anyway, I took Atlanta’s convenient four-color/four-branch public transportation system right to the venue (The Laughing Skull Lounge, http://www.vortexcomedy.com), and dropped my stuff in the green room. I saw my friends Jason Marcus and Sean Wilkinson from home rip their sets, and I enjoyed the comedy from other people who were not yet my friends. Good times! Also well described, me. I say that like I couldn’t go back and change that sentence at any time. I can. But I won’t.
After my plane ride, which was just very convenient economy seating, things have been first class all the way. The festival staff is helpful and super on top of things. The other comics are friendly and fun and talented. The hotel is affordable and close to the venue. The venue itself is amazing. If you know the Boston comedy landscape, think The Comedy Studio as a black box theater. It’s small and run well and there’s a disco ball for some reason over the crowd.
Anyway, the after party was at the Claremont Lounge. It reminds me of one of my favorite places from fiction, The Double Deuce. For those of you unfamiliar with Roadhouse, go see it now and then resume reading this after. It’s like a strip club, sort of, but in a New York Knicks sort of way they frittered away all their early-round draft picks and got stuck with journeymen veterans and undrafted free agents. It’s truly a place where dreams come true. If your dreams include second-hand smoke.
It was a late night and then an early morning. So let’s see how early I get silly and punchy tonight. Wheee!
Play on, players,