July 26, 2009:

Road Story

Two years ago I went on the second Crackpot Comedy Tour with my friends Tig Notaro and Steve Agee. It was a MySpace-booked tour of shows in people's living rooms and backyards and it was the best time I've ever had not making ends meet.

On the first night of the tour we stayed at a cheap motel in Red Bluff, CA. We got there around 3:00 am. Steve and I were both starving so we went to Denny's while Tig
hit the sack. The waiter at Denny's was really young and in such a good mood that Steve immediately diagnosed him as a speed freak. We heard him talking to some other customers about how he'd ended up in Red Bluff, and his answer supported Steve's diagnosis. He said he moved there from Utah to get away from his family and his problems. I can't imagine a problem that would point to that part of California as a solution, but I can imagine that the math included the square root of methamphetamines.

On the way back to the motel I wondered aloud about that kid and his weird through-the-looking-glass existence. Steve wondered aloud over me about how we had missed the exit to our motel. I was insulted by his lack of interest in my boring philosophizing and retaliated by continuing to spout nonsense. I feel like he got the message because by the time we got back to the motel he waved the white flag of falling immediately asleep.

Speaking of sleep: I can't sleep in a bed if there's another person in it. Tig and I shared a bed that first night and I woke up every 30 to 45 minutes. At one point I woke up and realized Tig had accidentally snuggled up to me. I knew it! Secretly in love with me all these years. Almost two weeks later we shared another motel bed in Salt Lake City and I woke up in the middle of the night patting her on the back. Shit! Lame even if I was doing it to a guy! Now who's moded.

The next day we drove to Portland and arrived an hour before the show was supposed to start. The people who worked at the bar welcomed us with open arms and open bottles of booze. Tig broke the sad news that she and Steve aren't alcoholics and that I'm completely sober. Sorry funville, you just got evacuated. Blow number two: not a single audience member showed up for the show. Turns out we had a misunderstanding about promotion. We thought the venue would promote it, they thought we would promote it, and everybody thought that the Mexican restaurant across the street should be promoted from "not bad" to "delicious."

The bright side is that we saw some lady-men in the lobby of the motel we were considering staying in. As a rule I'm not anti-transvestite, but there's something about seeing a group of them hanging out in a motel lobby that says "ask the concierge if we can get a room farther away from the parking lot blowjobs."

We decided to leave that motel and got the last room at the Holiday Inn Express. It was a large suite that was goddamn delightful. It had a kitchen and a living room and a king-sized bed big enough for Tig and me to not make love in. Steve's feet only hung off the sofa bed by about 10 inches. I felt like we could have made a home for ourselves there, but I guess Tig and Steve weren't that into the Pacific Northwest.

On our way back home we stopped at a gas station and saw this dog in the back of a pickup truck. He was leaning his head over the side of the truck and his people were standing around him, taking turns kissing him on the nose. He looked as blissful as I look when somebody hands me $83 cash. It was one of the best things I've ever seen, not counting the time three jocks streaked at my high school graduation. Booyah.

Love,

Why Is That Lady's Hair a Different Color Than Her Beard?

Added July 26, 2009

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