The life of a comedian

Two comedians are talking. One is feeling down. The other says "What's up?" "I did a show last night, and the guy didn't pay me." "That's horrible" , says the other comedian. Then he says, "So, uh, who books it?"

Unfortunately, it really sort of works like that. All comedians reading this know exactly what I'm talking about. Stage time is stage time, and when you're new, it's more valuable than money.

There are good things about it, and bad, just like like anything we might do. You have a great show, and you're on top of the world. Have a bad one, and you want to quit and hide like Sadam Hussein.

If you're doing one-nighters, there's nothing worse than the drive of shame to the next gig that night. Then, voila! You have a killer show and you're right back on top of the world.

I can only equate it to commission selling. The elation of making a big sale is instantly gone when you draw blanks the rest of the day.

As a comedian, we all have our horror stories. Here's a good one. Some people who book comedy in their business, couldn't care less about the comedians. In Elko Nevada, there used to be shows at a hotel, where the rooms had been condemned. The club owner wanted the comedians to stay in the rooms. No, I'm not kidding.

The hallways were dark, although the rats were friendly. The sheets on the bed were duct taped together. It was gross, to say the least. In Corvallis, Oregon, the accommodations were so horrible, I refused to stay. I called my brother, Jim, who lives in the Portland area, and asked if I could stay at his house. It was the the best 150 mile drive. Ever.

There are good stories, as well. Sometimes, if you're playing a club, they'll have a condo you can stay in. Nothing elaborate, mind you, but at least there were no duct taped sheets. Those were good times.

The best was performing near home. You slept in your own bed. Ahhh, your own bed! Never has a bed felt better. As your career progresses, so do accommodations and pay, but you never forget the humble beginnings.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get ready for a gig at a Senior Center.

See you tomorrow.