Most of this past weekend was infused with a light dusting of surrealism.
As I like to do in NYC most times I tossed myself out into the Middling City night on Saturday with a plan but with a welcome to serendipity, good old-fashioned Zen.
And where did I find myself on my last Saturday stop, dually documenting for the column and taking care of some AOL beeswax?
A comedy club rumored to be way closed. It wasn't, though it wasn't very obvious from the roadway.
As I pulled into the lot I got a long distance call from Jen B, tipsy and wandering as we spoke out into a dark country night outside of Troy for better cell phone reception. There were several I MISS YOUs exchanged before I heard the drama of her situation as she was left behind by a carful of pals as we talked and then her fear as she stood in the middle of the black road and then the sighting of headlights as the pals realized her absence in the car and returned for her.
Then into the comedy club.
I believe comedy clubs are for those less fortunate than me who are NOT funny (or can't make themselves laugh at their own expense) and can't find humor in their own lives. Poor, cover-shelling, bad-food-ordering watchers.
Many moments follow in comedy club... I find myself standing next to a biker type, with charming eyes that glint with malevolent wit and twinges of dangerous high times. He and I are laughing at the scene before us, a hypnotist in full biker regalia and holding a cordless mic who has a dozen watchers hypnotized and doing all sorts of demeaning things.
The charming biker type and the hypnotist know each other fairly well... and loathe each other. Hypnotist motions over heads of watchers and hypnotized watchers, fingers spread about 3" apart. Oh, says biker type, he wants another shot, he can't have another shot. Biker type nods a huge NO. Hypnotist looks dejected, lunges for his Yukon Jack & Diet Coke (I guessed Jack and Coke - biker fav) on a nearby table and goes about demeaning the dozen.
Biker type can't wait to tell me this:
Now look at him, all tough looking. Would you ever imagine that he HAND SEWS ELASTIC ONTO THE BOTTOMS OF HIS PANT LEGS SO THAT HIS PANTS WON'T RIDE UP ABOVE HIS BIKER BOOTS? IT'S ALL SHOW BUSINESS. IT'S ALL A SHOW.

I leave you with these words. It's all a show.
Love.