THE PEOPLE I WASNT WATCHING...

I had no idea what was happening in Matt's life when I watched him get onstage. From my side of the microphone, I was worried about whether enough comedians had signed up, whether the audience was having fun and whether I could somehow keep this little Thursday night comedy show moving.

 

Matt was trying to figure out what came next in his life.

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And somehow, for a few minutes at a time, those two things intersected in a little bar in Mandeville.

 

That's what I mean when I say I wasn't watching closely enough.

 

Matt remembers Socially Awkward differently than I remember the stress of running it. He remembers the lighting, the sound and an audience that actually paid attention.

 

“For my first experience, it was amazing,” he said.

 

Then he started going to other open mics and discovered we'd apparently given him unrealistic expectations. He described the average mic he later encountered as a bunch of comics standing around outside a bar while a handful of people inside tried to ignore them.

 

“The exact opposite of what most open mics actually are.” he joked about The Hideaway mic.

 

But the thing that matters to me now isn't whether Socially Awkward was a particularly good open mic. It's that it was there.

 

 

“Having The Hideaway was a dream come true.” said Matt.

 

Years later, he describes having a local place to perform as “instrumental” in meeting other comedians, building confidence and getting the experience he needed to continue.

Crockett found the same room through a random conversation in a drone certification class. Matt could reach it on a bicycle. Two completely different paths brought two people to the same microphone.

 

There were plenty of Thursday nights when I thought I was wasting my time.

 

Now I know I wasn't.

 

THE NEXT FIRST TIMER

 

When you run an open mic, it’s easy to judge whether the night was successful by what happened that night. Was there a crowd? Did enough comics sign up? Did the show go well? Did the bar make money? Did I somehow avoid having to put one of my unsuspecting friends onstage?

But maybe that isn’t the only way to measure it. You have no idea what kind of fire or passion you might start in somebody simply by giving them the opportunity to get through those first couple of sets.

 

The established comic getting another four minutes of practice matters. But the person nervously holding a microphone for the first time might matter more.

 

And that brings us back to the Northshore today. We have comedy. We have audiences. We have venues. We have producers. We have experienced comedians willing to drive here and perform. What we don’t currently have is that simple doorway for someone who wants to find out how far they can take this.

 

I asked Crockett where someone living on the Northshore would begin if they wanted to start comedy today.

 

“I hate to say that I don’t know where you would begin.” replied Crockett.

 

That's a pretty remarkable thing to hear from someone who began his own comedy career in a Mandeville open mic only a few years ago.

 

Crockett also pointed to something bigger. The Northshore has already produced world class comedy talent. Sean Patton came out of Slidell. Theo Von grew up in the Mandeville and Covington area. Both ultimately had to leave the Northshore to pursue comedy.

 

Crockett hopes that changes.

 

So do I.

 

And the person who could benefit from that change isn’t hypothetical. John Fridge is a Mandeville resident and real estate agent who has already taken those first few steps into stand up. He’s performed before, but he’s still early in the process and wants more opportunities to get onstage and develop.

 

That puts him in a slightly different position than Crockett and Matt were when they found Socially Awkward. John has already gotten past the question of whether he’s willing to get onstage. Now the question is where he can consistently do it.

 

Years ago, Crockett and Matt had Socially Awkward. They could walk into a room in Mandeville, put their names on a list and get stage time without leaving the Northshore. John doesn’t have that option today.

 

That’s the missing piece.

 

A healthy comedy scene can’t only be a place where comedians come to perform. Eventually, it has to become a place where comedians are created. And for that to happen on the Northshore, somebody is eventually going to have to start another open mic.

 

I’d absolutely be there every week. And when whoever takes on that job inevitably finds themselves staring at an empty signup sheet ten minutes before showtime wondering why they ever thought this was a good idea, I hope they remember something it took me years to figure out:

 

You never know whose life you might change by hosting that stressful open mic.

 

And finally, I owe a heartfelt thank you to Matt, Crockett and every single person who ever put their name on that Socially Awkward signup sheet and got onstage for us. You gave that little Thursday night open mic a reason to exist, even on the nights when I was too stressed out to appreciate it.

 

I probably owe you an apology too.

 

I spent so much time worrying about whether we had enough comics, whether the show was going well and whether we could keep the thing alive that I didn't always recognize what was happening right in front of me. Some of you were trying stand up for the first time. Some were working on becoming better comedians. Some probably just wanted to see if you could make a room full of strangers laugh.

 

Whatever brought you through that door, thank you for trusting us with those few minutes.

 

I only wish I had been watching a little closer...

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