Kevin Allison's True Stories: Running Away
A comedy article
by Kevin Allison  809  4
08/27/2009 10:11 PM 3196 views
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When my comedy troupe (and MTV show) The State imploded, Luna Lounge exploded. This was New York's "alt comedy" headquarters. So many folks who are now big comedy stars were there, and the place packed 'em in like one night with Jesus.
It was usually more crowded than this.
I was at a wobbly place in life, fretting over who I was, what my comedic "voice" should be without backup. The only way to settle that is to churn stuff out. But perfectionists don't churn. They belabor things into the ground, then let weeks go by before starting something new. So about once a month, I'd show up at Luna with a 10-minute one-act where even the punctuation seemed cast in bronze. I was always afraid of not nailing things, so I'd grown used to over-memorizing, down to the a's and the's.
One week, I'd been busy juggling my Bohemian hot potatoes -- power off, eviction served, Smirnoff 86'd -- and my confidence was low. But the comedy piece I brought to the bar that week I considered my Ring of the Nibelung. In it, I established for the audience that one person I'm not is Charles Manson. Not that I'm not not Charles Manson. Also, where the hell would they get the idea I'm Charles Manson? And so on. Six minutes in, my ranting comes from the murder trial transcripts themselves. "THESE CHILDREN THAT COME AT YOU WITH KNIVES! I TAUGHT THEM!"
I'm not this guy. Unless I am.
Jeff Ross was hosting. He said Newark Airport is the Newark of airports. People were hanging off the walls like ivy it was so packed. Jeff brought me up and I jumped in. I got to the end of the first paragraph, looked up at a few hundred eyes in the dark ... and could not for the life of me imagine where to go from there. The text, the story -- it was like it had been erased from my hard drive. For a moment, I was facing these staring eyes underwater. Lights in my face, sound in a vacuum. I threw myself on the first solution I saw -- starting over.
You wouldn't hit a simile like me, would you?
And so, again, I said the one person I'm not is Charles Manson -- not that I'm not not Charles Manson, and so on. People laughed. They thought this was about repetition. Then I got to the end of the first paragraph again, right back to the cliff's edge. Nothing. Stage fright was Frost-ing me hard. Some part of my psyche had run off with the next 800 words for good. I was developing an ulcer on the spot. I went pale. I wanted to hide. And in the worst decision I've ever made as a performer, I leapt on that desire. I turned to Ross, sitting on the side of the stage, and said, loud enough so that he and the audience could hear, "I can't do this."
Everyone was confused. Ross, the crowd -- I couldn't be serious, could I? Now the only way out of this firetrap was right through the crowd. There were no aisles. There weren't even chairs. All but those at the very back along the walls were sitting on the floor. So I started the ultra-awkward journey of a quitter, my legs shaking as I clumsily stepped between bodies to get to a door that seemed an eternity away.
But here was the deal with Luna Lounge in 96. With the words "alt comedy" and "like Andy Kaufman" buzzing around the room each week, what was expected was the unexpected. So, as I was bailing on my routine and desperately trying to escape, the audience made a decision -- I was joking. "Noooooo!" they yelled, "You can do it!" They were loving it. This wasn't a monologue, it was an event. Either I resumed threatening to write on the walls with their blood, or else. I kept shaking my head no and apologizing until someone grabbed my foot and I went down. The next thing I knew, against my will, I was body surfing. The klutziest body surfing ever, but it was enough to belch me back up onstage.
It looked like this, only I didn't have boobs.
It's strange to say, but somehow, being told I had no choice but to finish made me finish. I remembered the rest of the monologue fine now. And I don't know what the hell kind of sense they made out of it all, but in their eyes, I was a hit.
Afterwards, I explained to an agent who'd been there what had really happened. He said, "Well, at least you know that your worst fears about your job were realized but it wasn't so bad after all." That was true, but I didn't really take it to heart for years. For the longest time, I shuddered to think back on the horror of those deer-in-headlights moments.
Nowadays I tell my own stories. I don't memorize them word-for-word, because it wouldn't sound like I was really there with the audience. And now I know that's the real lesson of that night. When you get stuck onstage, you're not alone. You can turn to a collaborator. You have a room full of them.
Do you have a "Running Away" story? Some situation you committed to, then bailed midway through? Submit it as a ZUG Article and title it "Running Away: _____________." You might be invited to contribute to my upcoming podcast of dangerous stories, daringly told called RISK! For more info, visit risk-show.com. The first season of RISK! will include Marc Maron, Michael Ian Black, Michael Showalter, David Wain, Janeane Garofalo, Keith Powell, Rachel Dratch and more. Click here to submit your story!
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Like This? Rate It!
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Hilarious
13 votes
4.5
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Chuckleworthy
2 votes
2.5
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John Hargrave 128,123  71
08/27/2009 10:19 PM
Painful and funny, like an auto accident involving clowns.
I had a similar experience when I was getting my master's degree: there was this business plan competition where I was nominated to present the plan on behalf of my team. I did awesome in the preliminary round, and we were one of two finalists. Then when it came time for the final presentation, I completely froze.
I wrote the story for that somewhere on this site. Will somebody find it for me? Google search sucks.
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Amusing
1 votes
1.0
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Thud 66,695 17
08/27/2009 10:42 PM
You're not sure if you are Manson? Did you send John some boxes and macaroni? Did you include some creepy correspondence?
No? Well, there you go.
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0 votes
0.0
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Mr.Coffee 881 10
08/28/2009 05:52 AM
I went out to twelve shiny nickels a comedy club in L.A a few weeks ago and witnessed what is probably the worst bombing I have ever seen. Props for making it back on the stage. Props to the audience for making you, but props to you for being able to keep going once you got there.
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0 votes
0.0
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Mr Crabs 301 7
08/28/2009 09:52 AM
Helter Skelter Man, Helter Skelter!!!
If they hadn't laughed you coulda' whipped out your hatchet.
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0 votes
0.0
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I are Nipples 2,207 7
08/28/2009 11:44 AM
Admit it.. you were just fiendin' for another "salad".
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Funny
1 votes
3.0
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Whistler P. McManus 183,262 42
08/28/2009 12:22 PM
Remember when you were body surfing, and someone squeezed your package? That was me.
Seriously, great story, brilliantly told. Though I think a Ring of the Nibelung reference might be above the head of the average Liver. Even I'm not much on Wagner.
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Funny
1 votes
3.0
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Mr Crabs 301 7
08/28/2009 01:47 PM
Whistler it's hard to understand you when you have his dick in your mouth.
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0 votes
0.0
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Mr Crabs 301 7
08/28/2009 01:48 PM
You were talking Robert Wagner, right?
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Funny
1 votes
3.0
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Bill the Squirrel 53,130 53
08/28/2009 01:51 PM
Though I think a Ring of the Nibelung reference might be above the head of the average Liver. Even I'm not much on Wagner.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? And who's Wagner?
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0 votes
0.0
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Alarm Clock the Chubby Robot 6,338 4
08/28/2009 01:57 PM
Though I think a Ring of the Nibelung reference might be above the head of the average Liver
Ring of Nibelung Nibbling? Is that what it's called? What's wrong with your penis? The ring is supposed to be below the head, or after it, definitely not above it.
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0 votes
0.0
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peoriagrace 6,153 11
08/29/2009 12:51 AM
Ring of Nibelung, is a bit too long for me.
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0 votes
0.0
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mandellia 45 4
09/01/2009 03:51 AM
Looks interesting!
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