Hello St. Petersburg!But how did you do, Ugarte?, I am sure you were asking yourself after reading my recap of the St. Pete open mic. Well enough is the best short answer I can give. It was the strangest set I’ve done, but it acccomplished what I wanted it to.
Coconuts in St. Pete Beach is, as the emcee put it, a low-B room. They had an article on the wall promoting their club in which the manager at Side Splitters was quoted as saying The headliners in their club are openers here. After taking a look at the Side Splitters calendar, he wasn’t lying. Still, it is a comfortable place to perform and the drinks are cheap.
I told the person on the phone that I was a comic from New York that was down for Christmas week. He told me to come to the open mic and talk to the emcee. When I told the emcee my story, he extrapolated and introduced me as a “pro from New York.” I’ve chosen this as my career, and I’ve been paid a few times, so I decided not to tell him that I am an “open micer from New York.” I was trying to get sets in their regular show, so total honesty didn’t seem like the best tactic.
By the time my turn came there was ZERO real audience left. Zinester was there with me, the guy with the blood-test bandage had a few friends with him and the 17-year-old’s parents came to support him. All of the others left shortly after Uncle Dow. I can’t say that I blame them.
My set started auspiciously when the emcee introduced me as ... a New York pro that asked to come do some time. Please welcome Richard Baldwin. (Richard Baldwin turned out to be blood-test bandage guy.) I just rolled with it, because how mad can you get about a simple mistake? He had just met me (and Richard Baldwin, for that matter) and had no real reason to remember my name.
I was pleased to notice that Uncle Dow stuck around to see the rest of the open mic, so I thanked him for showing us respect (while also backhandedly thanking him for doing a 50 minute set). Then I turned to the bar and said Jason, do you think I could get an order of homophobia, or did the other comics finish it all? Then I started my regular set.
Not exactly my regular set, though. The audience, when there was an audience, was on the old side. I decided not to do jokes with pop culture references or too much cursing. Once I had chosen my set list and started mentally preparing it, I couldn’t really switch back after the audience left. I did my bathroom joke, which got less response than I expected. I moved on to the doctor’s office bit, but didn’t tell it very well. I think I may not have even told it right. (I haven’t performed that joke in at least two months.) I moved on to a good new joke about Zinester and got a few laughs. The bicycle joke, which I haven’t told in a while, got some laughter too. I finished by doing the Spider-Man bit, and again, got some laughter but not much. I could tell that the only people laughing during my set were Uncle Dow and the emcee, Frankie Cramer. Of course, if two people are going to laugh, those are the two you want laughing. Instead of the scheduled five minutes, Frankie let me go on for seven - and he didn’t even light me. I could have kept going if I wanted to, but I hadn’t really prepared any other material.
When Frankie came back on stage, he thanked me for not acting pissy when he misintroduced me and asked me again if I was going to come back tonight or Sunday. I told him that I was coming back for both.
After my set, I thanked Uncle Dow for sticking around. He told me that he was still there because his props were still on the stage. So much for respect for the open micers. So I thanked him for not taking the time to clean up his stuff before leaving the stage.
Then I went to Frankie, who came up and shook my hand and said We keep an extra case of homophobia in the back, shrugged and said That’s what sells down here. He told me that it was good to hear a fresh voice in the club and said that he would try to get the club owner to come tonight so that my set can be a kind of audition. I thought that was pretty great. He also told me that he would comp Zinester’s family if I brought them down. Frankie is a good guy.
On the drive back to Clearwater, Zinester and I listened to the tape. It turns out that I got laughs with the bicycle and Zinester jokes even though I forgot to tell the main punchline for both jokes. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t even notice that I didn’t tell the punches. Tonight, when I actually tell the punchlines, I should kill!
My first road gig was a success (of sorts), and I’m really looking forward to tonight.
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