Where Is Nancy Reagan When You Need Her
I was passive aggressively forced to buy an alcoholic beverage by a skinny little man who runs a music open mic in Williamsburg on Wednesday night. I didn't really want to buy a drink. But I didn't know how to say "no' to this guy. They didn't cover that in my public school drug and alcohol classes. Sure they teach you how to deal with peer pressure at a party or something. (I wish they taught us how to get invited to parties that served alcohol.) School teaches you that it takes a half hour for your liver to process a half an ounce of alcohol. But they never cover how to deal with a guy causing an awkward social situation so that you purchase alcohol.
A five foot five inch fella, who stands in the back of a room at a sound board mispronouncing people's names into a remote microphone seconds before they take the stage to perform, came up to the table I was sitting at. I was joined by two other comedians one had just performed and the other dude and I had not yet. The little open mic host comes up to us and says to the dude who had performed, "Good job, man. Can I get you guys a drink?" He said it like the comedian's set was so good he was going to buy us a round. But we knew (somehow instinctively) that he wasn't buying us a drink. Rather he just wanted to us to buy drinks. I didn't want to buy a drink. I for once wasn't in the mood for a cocktail and I don't really drink soda...unless of course it has alcohol in it. Sometimes mics have a policy that the performers must buy a drink to get stage-time. But there was nothing stating that. The little man never said that into his remote microphone. How do you say no to a man can make your five minute set you've signed up for vanish like a CIA videotape? I have only come there to talk to cute men who play guitar. I can't talk to them if I don't get on stage. That's how it works. I get on stage say very funny things for five minutes and then cute boys with guitars come up to me afterwards and say, "You're funny." I say thanks, "You have a great voice." And then hopefully I feel validated as person. But none of that can happen if I don't get my five minutes.
My public school education never covered how a single gal is to navigate the precarious world of music open mics without walking out a degenerate drunk. I bought that drink night. And because of my public school math education I knew if I didn't drink my hard cider that would be a waste of money. Was it worth it? Well, when I came off stage I got many many "you're very funny." Three men struck up conversations with me. Unfortunately, I wasn't drunk off the one cider I was passive aggressively forced to buy, so I didn't have the boldness to get a number or bring anyone home. Oh the irony.
In closing: GO GIANTS!!!
A five foot five inch fella, who stands in the back of a room at a sound board mispronouncing people's names into a remote microphone seconds before they take the stage to perform, came up to the table I was sitting at. I was joined by two other comedians one had just performed and the other dude and I had not yet. The little open mic host comes up to us and says to the dude who had performed, "Good job, man. Can I get you guys a drink?" He said it like the comedian's set was so good he was going to buy us a round. But we knew (somehow instinctively) that he wasn't buying us a drink. Rather he just wanted to us to buy drinks. I didn't want to buy a drink. I for once wasn't in the mood for a cocktail and I don't really drink soda...unless of course it has alcohol in it. Sometimes mics have a policy that the performers must buy a drink to get stage-time. But there was nothing stating that. The little man never said that into his remote microphone. How do you say no to a man can make your five minute set you've signed up for vanish like a CIA videotape? I have only come there to talk to cute men who play guitar. I can't talk to them if I don't get on stage. That's how it works. I get on stage say very funny things for five minutes and then cute boys with guitars come up to me afterwards and say, "You're funny." I say thanks, "You have a great voice." And then hopefully I feel validated as person. But none of that can happen if I don't get my five minutes.
My public school education never covered how a single gal is to navigate the precarious world of music open mics without walking out a degenerate drunk. I bought that drink night. And because of my public school math education I knew if I didn't drink my hard cider that would be a waste of money. Was it worth it? Well, when I came off stage I got many many "you're very funny." Three men struck up conversations with me. Unfortunately, I wasn't drunk off the one cider I was passive aggressively forced to buy, so I didn't have the boldness to get a number or bring anyone home. Oh the irony.
In closing: GO GIANTS!!!
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