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The City That Never Lets Me Sleep
{August 2, 2002}

I went to New York again this past weekend for the second time in as many months. MaLady said her friends tell her I must have a mistress in The City. Well, I do.. and her name is Comedy. I spend the weekend taking in shows, meeting other comics, and performing a little my own self. Last time I went I said to myself, "I don't ever want to leave!" Well, just be careful what you wish for.

Friday night I went to see the "Portable Comedy" show at the Gershwin Hotel on East 27th Street. Hosted by Julius Sharpe, the show featured standup from Chris DeLuca (Late, Late Show & SNL), Liam McEneaney (Conan, Premium Blend), and James Oakes (opens for Lewis Black) PLUS free hard liquor for anybody who wanted it. $5 at the door for hilarious funny ha-ha's + a selection of booze = a night of fun. I love comedy.

To intro a bit, Julius asked if anybody had ever been laid-off from a job. My hand went up. "Oh yeah? Who was the employer?" "There have been several." "Really? What's the problem? Drugs?" "No, it turns out I'm not that employable." "Ever thought about getting into comedy?" "I do comedy."

After the show, the comedians gave out their fliers, I gave them mine in return. Everybody was really funny & seemed like good people. "Time Out New York" gave the show a star, and for good reason.. Where else can you go and pay five bucks for quality entertainment AND cheap booze? I mean BESIDES Jesse's mom's house.

Saturday I spent a long time walking around the Lower East Side, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Financial District, SoHo and TriBecca. I checked out the new Apple store in SoHo, and stumbled upon some sort of street fair thing with food, vendors with arts and crafts, massages, and a guy from the "Change of Heart" show walking around trying to break up happy, superficial couples.

An oriental lady offered to massage me for one minute for free. I told her to go for it.. she did a great job, and then asked me if I wanted a 10-minute work-over. "No." "What?! Just ten dollar!" "No, thanks." She pulled me in close and whispered, "Ok, ok.. for you, five dollar." "No, thanks.. I gotta go." She seemed shocked that I would use her for her free minute and move on, but that's just the kinda guy I am: offer me something free, and I'll take it without guilt.

There were a lot of artists selling paintings and photographs. One woman in particular had signs up proclaiming, "SAVE NEW YORK STREET ARTISTS!" I couldn't resist. Her hand-drawn propaganda said, "We saved the whales (didn't we?).. now let's save the NYC street artists!" She had legal pads where you could sign your name in of her cause. I laughed, "save the street artists? From what? Their own pretension?" Silly artists.

I really had no interest in seeing Ground Zero, but in my meanderings I ended up walking thru that area. If you haven't been there, let me describe the scene..

Imagine a big car wreck. Some people find an alternate route to travel and go about their business.. some slow down to watch the carnage.. some people hear about it on the scanner, and go out to get in the way. The World Trade Center site is pretty much the same thing, but on a much larger scale. It's a lot of people standing around looking.. plus you have the street vendor vultures selling 9/11 souvenirs. The fences covered with s and t-shirts and well-wishes are still there, but they have graffiti on them.

It was weird, 'cause last time I was down in that neighborhood was about five years ago. I had the crappiest hotel room I've ever spent way too much money on.. PLUS the radiator was cranked up all the way with the knob ripped off (in the middle of summer). I certainly couldn't sleep, so I was wandering around Manhattan at about 3 a.m. It's amazingly peaceful in certain parts of the city at that hour.. the Financial District was nearly silent and I remember walking around the WTC area and being stunned by the lack of activity. It's a strange feeling to walk down there now, no matter what time of day it is.

I met up with some friends and took the train to Brooklyn to eat at Junior's. This place is apparently the Mecca of cheesecake. When you walk in you pass by glass cases full of all of their varieties & realize that you can't walk out of there without at least trying one. They have all the articles written about them framed on the walls, and when going to the bathroom I noticed one headline that said something like, "Brooklyn Is Fat Because of Junior's." I laughed, but when I went back to the table and looked around I realized that 90% of the people in there were REALLY obese.

Even though my sandwich was enormous I had to have a slice of cheesecake. It didn't help that I had been pounding down drinks, either. I originally ordered a white russian, but saw my friend's strawberry daiquiri and had to get one. For a while I was double-fisting the drinks.. when someone pointed that out, I made a funny by picking up my water as well and tried to drink from three glasses at once. (And no, I'm NOT tonguing the strawberry.. that's just an unfortunate angle.)

I was so stuffed I felt ill. What better way to top that off than by going out drinking! I met up with some old friends from my UT-Knoxville days at a little country/western-themed bar called Doc Holidays. We drank PBR and stacked the cans up in towers until they fell on us. Occasionally, the bartender girl would jump up on the bar and start clogging. Living in Nashville, I can't stand stupid little country bars.. but for some reason it was fun to see that kinda stuff going down in the heart of New York City. In SAT exam terms: country bars are to Nashville as rats are to New York City.

Sunday was a lazy day. I watched a freaky movie about a German transsexual rock star which began weird, then got more and more bizarre until it just kind of ended. In the evening, I headed down to the East Village to check out FaceBoyz' open mic at Surf Reality. Sign up was at 7:45, the show started at 8. I got number 32 (there were about 40 people signed up.. maybe 70 people there in all). They did the first nine, took a 10 minute break, then continued the show.. I ended up going on stage at 2:15 a.m. or so. There were three or four people left after me, then they gave away the prizes: a gay porn video tape, a copy of "Modern Woman's Guide To Domination," and a new cellphone.

Monday I strolled thru Central Park and read a book in the spot where I once camped out for three days. Later I wandered down to the Ed Sullivan Theater to bother Letterman's staff before taking a cab to the airport. Here's where the story turns ugly.

Arriving at the airport early, I checked in at my gate at 6 p.m. The lady at the counter said my flight was on-time and scheduled to depart at 6:50, so I headed for the bar. The bar area was about 30 yards away from the gate. I had a couple beers and talked to a few people, then paid my tab and headed down toward the gate at about 6:30. I heard my name on the intercom and began to run. I got to the gate within 20 seconds of hearing my name, but the airplane was gone.

I asked the snotty girl behind the counter why the plane left 20 minutes early, and she said, "We PAGED you." "Yeah, and I ran.. but it's already gone!" A lady ran up to the counter and asked why the plane left so early. "We PAGED you," said The Snot. As if that covers it. "Oh, you paged us? Ok. We're not mad now. Cool." Suck it, USair.

"Well, when's the next flight out?" I ask. "Tomorrow morning at 7 a.m." She said it with this look on her face like she was teaching me a lesson. I would have liked to roast her fat ass on a spit, but didn't give her the pleasure of seeing me visibly pissed off. I had heard that wacky juggler Scot Nery was in New York, so I called him to see what he was doing. You know you're in trouble when you call a guy who juggles knives for help.

Scot heroically came to my assistance. We took a cab to the nearest train stop in Queens, then took the train to the Upper West Side. Scot was staying at a youth hostel up around 104th Street and thought maybe he could sneak me in. First, we went over to the Underground Lounge to see if their open mic night was still going.. and watched a really drunk guy stumble all over the bar before challenging the bouncers to a fight. Seeing no opportunity for stage time, we headed back to the Hostel.

We asked the security guy about the cheapest ways to get to LaGuardia and with him distracted, snuck in. Each room in the place had six bunk beds.. that's 12 dudes per room. Luckily, Scot's room had an extra empty bed. I set my alarm for 5 a.m. and laid down to try to sleep a few hours. Scot says, "If someone comes and throws you out of their bed, well... I dunno." I figured I'd just head back to the airport.

It didn't happen, though. Not much of anything happened.. except it felt weird trying to sleep in a room with strange dudes all around (and in bunk beds, nonetheless). It took me about an hour or so before I passed out. It just seemed like this situation would probably be pretty close to the plot on that tape of gay porn they gave away at Surf Reality.

I got up and caught a bus back to Queens, via Harlem. It was my first time thru that neighborhood, and all I could think of was, "So this is where Willis and Arnold were from?" I also learned something about the New York Metro bus system: It costs $1.50 to ride, and they only accept MetroCards and change. If you don't want to pay, just have $2 cash in your hand and offer it to the driver saying "it's all I've got." They don't accept cash, and don't have time to argue so they'll just get disgusted and tell you to sit down on the bus.. you ride for free! I'll bet it doesn't work twice with the same driver, though.

It was a fun trip up until USair went out of their way to piss people off. I've tried very hard not to have any airline jokes, but I'm afraid I'll fall to the Dark Side of the Farce very soon. It's also unfair that every time I tell this story, when people hear "..so I went to the bar" they say, "uh-huh.. there ya go." Booze isn't the issue here! The plane left 20 minutes early and they were bastards about it.

As much as I love New York, when it's time to go home and see MaLady.. it's time to go home and see MaLady. I'll be back, though.. my mistress calls.