But you’d miss New York before you could unpack

Here is what I fucking love about comedy —
Say you love to play baseball.
Can you walk up to Derek Jeter and ask for some tips?
Or you want to be an actor…
Will Dustin Hoffman sit you down at a table and have a chat about your dreams?
You play the guitar.
Is Steven Tyler going to give you tips on what it was like for him coming up?
Shit, no.
Felicia and I were driving last Friday, and she turned to me and said “We should go to New York.”
I go, “Yeah, tell me about it.”
And she goes, “Really, though.”
“Okay. Let’s go right now.”
Jump to about 9 hours later (packing + driving) there we were, walking around
Madison Square Garden, trying to find a bathroom, which quickly became the theme of New York.
This trip was fucking amazing.
Now, I’ve been to New York before, and compared to this trip, they were all pampered, sheltered tourist trips.
This time, I believe we lived the quintessential New York Experience.
First thing we do — go to the bathroom at Penn Station.
To find a man in drag putting on makeup in the mirror.
Minutes later, police walked in and dragged some homeless drug addict out.
So full of life, this city!
Man, it only got awesomer.
I said it, “Awesomer” — you can’t stop me, don’t even try.
So, if my memory serves me, and it may not, because I was running on about 4 hours’ car-sleep, we stopped at Central Park to see the abandoned Street Babies.
No time to explain. There was an abandoned baby, that I assumed was a street baby, but some guy came and yelled at it, and took it away.
Okay, I guess there was time to explain.
We stopped by Trump Tower and took a picture of the asshole dorrman who stood outside — I should have fired HIM!
God, I’m funny.
We went to NBC Studios at Rockefeller Center where I proceeded to make love to all the Conan O’Brien merchandise right there in the store.
It was at about that point where I had my stereotypical monetary breakdown where “This wasn’t such a good idea”, “I’m going to be poor for the rest of my life”, “I can’t afford this hotel or this parking or this $2 hot dog that probably fell on the street prior to my buying it” at which point, I made a counter-argument to myself (I saw PLENTY Street Lunatics doing this; it’s quite common in New York) “You deserve a vacation,” “You can’t take it with you”, “You’re likely to spend the money on video games and porn anyway.” Which, I had to admit, was all true.
So, we went to Madam Tusseud’s Wax Museum, BECAUSE WE’RE TOURISTS, and we met two lovely Puerto Rican families in line, about 20 of them (I suspect they all arrived in one car), and they asked us if we could pretend to be in their family, so we could each get $10 off the group discount. Well, I shouted, “Si, Papi” faster than you can could swim to the mainland, and was well on my way to taking pictures of myself in amusing poses with crayon-versions of famous celebrities.
I don’t want to give anything away, but let’s just say I think my feelings towards Julia Roberts were poignantly expressed, and almost got me kicked out.
I can’t begin to list all of the other wacky things we did, because we basically ran around town non-stop for three days straight, hitting every comedy club and tourist hot-spot we could find.
I got to go to all the places I’d read about — Carolines, the Comedy Cellar, Gotham — and it was very neat, when I was reserving seats, and the lady asked how I’d heard about the place, I’d answer something like, “Uh…the book Comedic Insights by Frankyn Ajay” or something like that.
I can’t even compare the experience to anything else.
Maybe it’s like playing video games your whole life and then going to E3.
Maybe it’s like eating Eggos all your life, then stumbling upon a Waffle House.
Maybe it’s like fucking Sharonda from the Video Shack every night in the back of your Chevy, then going to Las Vegas and getting a high-priced hooker to show you what fucking’s REALLY about.
Yeah. I think it was most like that.
The trip made me eager, a little bit scared, but mostly excited about doing this for the rest of my life.
Too bad I have to metaphorically fuck Sharonda for about 3 or 4 more years until I get really good.
Hmm…that analogy would work a lot better if I were a guy.
Or homosexual.
Speaking of, we also saw Rent for $20.
That was awesome, and the uptight middle-aged white people sitting next to me, tutting everytime some dude kissed another dude was just delightful, because I knew the orgy scene was coming up, and I was hoping that they both would weep openly.
But back to comedy, Felicia and I saw more comedians that you can shake a stick at, OR sneeze at, OR swing a dead cat at.
And apparently, New Yorkers don’t know how fucking lucky they are, because after the shows, no one talked to the comics!
I’m standing in the Olive Tree Cafe or whatever, and there’s Darrell Hammond and Greg Giraldo and Allan Havey just fucking CHILLING.
So, of course, since I’m an obnoxious PRICK, I marched right up to them and tried my best not to look ridiculously in awe of them, and asked if they had any advice, and if I could get pictures.
Most everyone we met was VERY nice and talked at LENGTH to us, which, honestly, meant more to me than possibly anything ever.
Well, Darrell Hammond was kind of a dick, but that’s okay, because I didn’t like his act.
So, if I may brag for a minute, I also met Ted Alexandro, Dan Naturmann, Mike Birbiglia, Demetri Martin, Leo Allan, and Orny fucking Adams, who was a fucking DELIGHT and invited us to sit at the comedians-only table at the Olive Tree, and I swear, I was ready to walk into traffic after that, because there is no reason that someone should ever be so nice to me ever.
Then, as we were leaving, a delightful cook named Mohammed gave us a free Falafel.
Can life get better? I submit that it CANNOT.
Well, it would have been better if Felicia had gotten to meet her hottie Colin Quinn and if I had met my hottie Jim Norton, but I guess there’s always another trip we can take.
Well, I have to, because I made him a humorous shirt out of an I <3 New York shirt I got for 3 bucks on the street, and without a signature or picture or something, I just look like a Street Lunatic. And that just doesn't fly in Pittsburgh. Amongst sightings were Rich Vos, which almost caused Felicia to leap out of her seat at Carolines to tackle, but sadly he left without doing a set. We also saw Patrice Oneal, who I almost leapt out of my seat to tackle, but for an entirely different reason -- to get him back for Shorties Watching Shorties. So, there it is. My reason for living. I've been in a couple contests since I last updated, and I got second in two preliminaries, and I have a semi-final in a few weeks. Eh, after being in New York, I realized that I can never be a New York comic. It's nothing personal. With all the fast-talking, tough, attitudey comics there, my chipper, hyper-wacky energy just wouldn't fly there, I don't think. I'm not gritty enough, and I don't even think my act would be "something different" or "fresh," but rather "annoying." although when we saw the a certain female MC at Carolines...let's just say that I didn't feel so bad about my act. All right, peace out. I'm off to make love to my PlayStation 2.