Starting standup comedy: Scouting a first set

If you’re starting out as a standup comedian like I am, you might also be a tiny little bitch. What I mean by that is you might want to plan out every detail, like I did, so you cannot possibly bomb. Having done that, I highly encourage it. 

While I know there’s no way to completely account for all the possibilities in the universe or how nervous you’ll be on your first mic, there are ways to prepare for it and mitigate the potential disaster. 

Step 1: Find a mic. This might seem like a given, but you have to find where you’re going to perform. The difference between most open mic comedians and the prophetic hobo shouting about the end of the world on the corner is four walls and a microphone. 

To find my first mic, I did two things. The first was to Google, “open mic comedy Boston area.” 

The second was to find a Facebook comedy group for Boston / New England. Some communities do a better job than others curating their list. A prime example was the Garrison House in Brookline, MA. They had stopped their basement comedy shows about three months before I searched for, and found, it. Luckily, I went there for brunch and noticed they’d taken it off their events board. Again, I’m a tiny little bitch and I over strategize and plan out every minute of my life to avoid embarrassment– to no avail. 

This is a perfect representation of the open mic circuit. 

I’m not sure I’d realized this, but I literally went to the first one on the list. I swear I read them all, but it was the closest to my house, other than the cancelled one I’d mentioned. Some of them were 45 minutes or more away. Anyhow, I picked this one– very carefully– and not just because it was the first one on the list. 

The Midway Cafe, yes the first one on the fucking list. I see it too. Can we just let it go? Anyhow, The Midway Cafe is exactly what AI would generate for an image if given the prompt, “hole-in-the-wall dive-bar that’s about to burst into flames in the night” or “Make a live action version of Moe’s Tavern.” 

When I walked in, I immediately went to the bar for a beer. I had no idea it was a cash bar. Luckily they had an ATM, complete with antenna, that looked like Tony Stark built it in a cave. I grabbed a beer. Dylan, the bartender, who is basically the lovechild of Larry the Cable Guy and Van Wilder. had long hair and a mustache and clothes that would also fit nicely in a Spirit of Halloween Joe Dirt Costume. Super cool bro. 

Scouting the mic told me a lot. These observations made me comfortable with the place and helped me answer these questions for myself: Was this where I wanted to start? Could I figure out how things worked?Here’s what I gathered:

I learned the rules. The hosts, Rob and Josh, were amazing with their rules. They were simple: 1) Five minute sets, or two songs if you’re doing music– one guy did just come to sing. They didn’t time it, just asked for respect on it. 2) Don’t be a monster. They mentioned how most comedians want to be edgy, but not to be a total asshole while doing it. 

I was able to see which blocks had the bigger audience. The show started at 9, comics around 9:20, went until around 12:30AM. 10:00-11:00 had 20-30 people. I wasn’t sure I wanted a prime spot. They offered people the chance to go first. I liked that idea because I wouldn’t be thinking about it all night. 

I watched people bomb. Don’t get me wrong. There were some talented comics. There was a traveling comedian from Canada in a wheel chair. The stage isn’t accessible, so people had to help him on and off. He said, “Welp. That’s one thing I love about this chair. No matter how I do, I’ll get dragged offstage.” But, there were also wretched performances. Which, in my opinion is great. I’m happy to not be the worst at anything. 

One guy walked up shouting the Star Wars Imperial March and did an Andy Kaufman bit where he said, “I have an impression for you. This is Robert De Niro.” Then, proceeded to wave and say, “Hello, I’m Robert De Niro,” without doing any kind of impression. He did three rounds of that to minimal laughs. When Kaufman did it, he used his “Foreign man” voice, then did a spot on Elvis impersonation and sang “Hound Dog.” 

I got to see how the list worked. At Midway or the Highway, you write your name on a paper slip that goes in a bowl. Comics funnel in throughout the night and plop their name in the bowl. Most open mics have a notepad, some an electronic signup. It’s good to know how you’ll get one and that you’ll get on. Some of the larger clubs that have open mics have a months long wait list. Most shows that have a book require signup within a half hour of show start or you either a) don’t get one, b) go last. 

I saw the community. Midway Cafe is a long building with the bar in the middle. I was in front of the bar, the closer-knit group was in the back or outside smoking. I didn’t know anyone and I wasn’t there to build a community, since I knew I’d be moving soon, but it was cool to see the hierarchy because, at some point, I was going to have to navigate one. 

Overall, I’m really happy I took the night to see what the mic was all about rather than just show up as a bright ball of nerves ready to explode. It was nice being able to take in info about how the mic worked without having to divert energy away from preparing to perform for the first time. It also gave me an out if I decided that wasn’t the place for me. 

As I left, my Lyft pulled up to the curb super fast. The three other people waiting on cars and smoking jumped out of the way. I yelled out, “I’m a very important person,” to which a comedian, named Tiny replied, “Get this man to the White House!”

What do you think? Are you for scouting it out, or just going in Leroy Jenkins style and getting it over with? 

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