I don’t think I’ve told this story here yet, but stop me if you’ve heard this one before.
Sometimes when people find out that I am the most minor cog deep inside a machine that could be mistaken for show business. They assume that my life is all hedonism and debauchery. That I’m all trashing hotels and doing drugs and consorting with loose women. And I say, listen. You obviously must not know my personality. Fun stresses me out and pleasure makes me uncomfortable. I do consider myself a party animal, but that animal is a three-toed sloth. I am a party sloth.
In fact, usually when people see me they assume I’m not much fun. Which sounds insulting, but really it’s pretty handy since I never get to help fund or consume drug purchases. (If you’re looking for a fella to bankroll some pastry though, I’m your man.) I’ve actually been known to disappoint bartenders with my beverage selection. Here is a real conversation I had in Connecticut one time:
Lady Bartender: What’ll you have?
Me: Glass of water, please.
LB: Glass of water? You’re not fun at all!
Me: It’s like you’ve known me my whole life!
So the point is, I don’t spend a lot of time around hard drugs (or sex. One time I was flirting with a girl and she suggested that we hook up, and I actually had to stop myself from saying: “But we were having so much fun!”). But one time this summer I was offered cocaine for the first and only time. Here’s the story! I’m leaving out names and places so that no one gets in trouble.
I was on the road, and some comic friends took me out to a bar after a show. The show had been “meh” to “meh-minus,” and we were all intent on making some fun come true. I bought a round of shots for the crew I was with because I wanted to be gracious and generous away from home. The side effect of that was that I drank one shot, which immediately made me start jumping into conversations with strange women and tell them they had “Fancy hair.”
The scene overall was really fun. The local comics I was out with were super cool and nice. A band was playing, and they were great. Since the bar was a frequent hangout for comedians, the sound guy/bartender was friendly and curious and accommodating. We got to talking and this exchange happened, once again verbatim:
Sound Guy/Bartender: Hey, man. I know you’re out on tour, and I don’t want to offend you, but do you want to do a bump?
Me: Excuse me? Ohhhhh! Oh! No thank you! But I appreciate your trying to make me feel at home!
“I appreciate your trying to make me feel at home?” Has that ever been the response to someone being offered drugs? I think probably that was without precedent. Honestly, though, I was flattered that he used slang. If I were offering someone like me cocaine, I would be way less casual and way more explicit. It would be like: Hey, do you want to put some powder in your nose and then feel invincible and annoy everyone for a little while?
So I don’t mean to brag, I don’t mean to boast, but one time, a guy thought I was fun. And I disappointed him. I probably should have baked him an apology pie. Oh well. Next time.