Like me, but I'm funnier.A while back I stood on stage and told a bunch of people a story, and thankfully they laughed.
About 5 weeks prior I started a class run by speakeasy d.c. on storytelling. We had our "final" at Chief Ike's Mambo Room and Pastry Parlour (or something).
The story I told was about two times I got my ass kicked - I mean actually, not metaphysically. The "profs" got us up on stage ahead of time so we'd know how far to stand from the mic and how not to freak out under the glare of the spotlights or the scrutiny of strangers. We were supposed to say our name and our favorite color. I quipped that my favorite color was fear of public speaking. Then I went and drank.
Mostly I drank soda because my blood-sugar kept sinking, but I preceded it with a strong salutary draught ... for nerves.
Then we storytellers got to go upstairs and consider our stories--and anxieties--for a while. I realized mine didn't have a very good ending--the story or, consequently, the anxieties. Luckily, with the help of the alcohol, I managed to think of how I didn't really care.
The night was supposed to open with the strongest storyteller from the class, who I have to admit was not me, and then I was supposed to help carry us over the finish line toward the end. Instead, the woman going first came in late and ended up going right before me. Fantastic.
My girlfriend tells me I did a very good job, and although that sounds about as credible as your mom telling you you're smart and handsome, you should know this about my girlfriend: She's honest, sometimes regrettably so. And I'm really good at reading her.
So, I have to concede that my story went over well. I remember hardly any of it. When my name was called I adopted the same trick I used when I jumped out of a plane a while back: I reined my considered event horizon in to about a distance of 2 seconds. Before my stupid limbic system could explain how I was going to fail, I took a breath and dashed for the stage. Take that, brain!
I certainly got some good laughs at the points I expected. I also got a laugh at a spot when I really didn't expect one, which is odd. I wish now I hadn't been suffering a nearly mortal case of nerves and could have remembered not just that people had laughed, but when. I supposed I'll have to get up at a more regular Speakeasy event and try again.
Just like skydiving, I remember little, I think I enjoyed it and I kind of want to go again.
Speaking of, my friend is telling a story tonight at Town for a Speakeasy called Eye of the Tiger, which focuses on winning and losing. I expect it will be a lot of fun and any of you in the D.C. area should come on down and have a look. You will like it.
http://www.speakeasydc.com/
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