Aftermath from a good night.

There's a post-script to my last post, but first, a pre-script:

A couple months ago, a mixed martial arts/extreme fighting studio moved in next door to the comedy club. More importantly, they moved in to the space that shares a wall with the comedy club's showroom. Even more importantly, there is practically no soundproofing in that wall.

Now, on with the story:

After my set, I was watching the rest of the show. During my friend's set, someone next door started using the speed bag next door. And it was pretty frickin' annoying. So, in the same fashion as shushing a loud talker in a movie theater, I went next door with the intent to politely ask them to keep it down.

The conversation went like this...

ME: Excuse me, is someone in the back using a speed bag or a punching bag in the back?

THEM: Probably, why?

ME: Well, they're in the middle of a show next door and the noise is kinda disrupting the show.

THEM: (in a huff) Let me tell you something, we have to listen to your noise every night, and you don't-

And that's when I walked out. I didn't go over there to get yelled it, nor am I the kind of guy wanting to walk into a martial arts studio to pick a fight.

Notice I said "They're in the middle of a show..." and not we. I was not presenting myself as a representative of the club's management. I went over there as an annoyed member of the audience, and I kept it perfectly diplomatic, kept a civil tone and never lost my cool.

Anyway, the noise stopped. Not because I spoke up, but because they heard my friend make a comment on it from the stage about being heckled by a wall. The acting manager of the club had a word with me after I got back from next door, asking me to let them handle that stuff from now on. Which I got, but I figured they might respond better from hearing from a member of the audience rather than people they've been butting heads with since they moved in.

So, lesson learned, or so I thought.

By Saturday, I had heard through the grapevine that the comedy club owner had found out about what I did. Panic set in. How pissed was she about this? What was gonna happen to me? For the next four days, I calculated possible scenarios. No matter what, I figured I kissed my chances of ever emceeing at the club goodbye. Would I be temporarily barred from performing? Would I be permanently banned from performing or from the club altogether? I had no way of getting in touch with the owner, thus I had no way of knowing what my fate would be.

Finally, Wednesday night came, and I was still anxious about my fate. First good sign was I got let in the door. Second good sign, I found out that what I did was just one of many things that went wrong on the one night they owner was out of town. By comparison, my indiscretion was small potatoes. The owner had a talk with me, and things were OK, provided that I never do anything like it again. Again, lesson learned.

But I found out that who the owner heard from about me: the people next door. So, obviously the data was skewed in my favor from the start. But after talking to the club owner, I had a better understanding about the tensions between the comedy club and the extreme fighting dojo next door. I mean, after all, we're all training for the same purpose: to entertain people. We tell jokes, they beat each other into early onset Parkinson's Disease. Which seems oddly parallel, given some of the crowds I've performed for.

But it was the other things that went on that night that is bringing about some changes in conduct for open-mic-ers. We'll each have to sign a list of rules that, if broken, would carry consequences. Common sense stuff, mostly, but still... they wouldn't have to enact these rules if not for the people who didn't respect the rules, or the club itself for that matter.

Time for some professionalism, and now I'm on track.