In June, I went to Saginaw, Michigan for a work training conference.
Saginaw is about 4 hours Northeast of me, and about an hour north of Detroit.
Let me just say, that area of Michigan sucks.
I know that they were hit hard by the collapse the market and lost several auto manufacturers.
The area lost thousands of jobs when those companies packed up and moved production to greener Asian/Mexican pastures with less unions and lower wages.
But honestly, how long can you use that as an excuse to be the armpit of the country?
So you negotiated yourselves out of work, so what! It’s time to pick yourselves up and do something else.
Like maybe cleaning up the streets of your cities.
Or at least remove the dead deer carcasses from the highway. (I counted 12 JUST on the way UP there!)
We all know Detroit is a cesspit, so I digress.
Saginaw is slightly better. You are still close enough to catch a contact high, and possibly STDs, but far enough away that the bullets from 8 Mile fall short.
You get the picture.
So there I am. Stuck. For a week.
The training runs from 8 to 4, leaving quite a bit of free time.
Free to do WHAT?
The second night there, I noticed a HUGE Buffalo Wild Wings in the parking lot of my hotel.
I walked over to get some dinner, and ended up staying to watch the NHL finals.
While there, I ordered an adult beverage, only to be CARDED!
Because I’m THAT youthful AND sexy.
That is when I found out my Drivers License had expired on my birthday.
Last December.
Like 6 months ago.
Like before I drove out of state 300 miles.
The bartender took pity on me and gave me my drink.
The next night, I debated on whether to risk embarrassment by going back, only to realize it would be less embarrassing than going somewhere new and experiencing it all over again. At least they already knew my license was expired at this BW3.
When I got there, the place was PACKED. A couple hundred people AT LEAST.
I found an empty seat at the bar on the patio, which was also packed.
I originally planned to grab a bite to eat and leave, but after meeting the two gentlemen sitting on either side of me, I figured some guy talk over beers and an NHL game would be better than watching Real Housewives alone in my hotel room.
Shut up.
Turns out, the guy on my left who was on a first name basis with all the bartenders and waitresses was not just some regular, but was the General Manager of all the area Buffalo Wild Wings.
He was really cool, and kept ordering the 3 of us Crown & Cokes.
The other guy, to my right with the really fancy watch, was an executive of NBC Detroit.
We talked and laughed and drank for most of the evening.
About 8 Crown & Cokes in, I mentioned that I had done standup comedy a few times.
Awe, hell.
Next thing I know, the GM has me up on the bar, with a mic, in front of the entire restaurant doing standup.
I did about a 20 min impromptu set that had the place rolling!
At first, I thought maybe they were just laughing at my drunk ass, and not the jokes.
But after I came down, they were patting me on the back, buying me drinks, telling me I was hilarious, and asking me to come back the next night.
I may or may not have even signed a couple pairs of titties. It’s difficult to remember.
Yep!
I’m now an INTER-STATE comedian.
Living the dream, one Crown&Coke at a time.
2 comments:
You've lost your amateur standing now, Dude. Fee drinks and titty signing puts you in the pro category. Next time I see ya, you can sign my man-boobs.
Signing tits? That's the big time!
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