My Stand-Up Confession

One for the Money, Two for the Show

There I was, standing on a massive stage, staring out at a room full of people who had paid real money to be entertained. I could only make out the first three or four rows because of the spotlight in my eyes, but I knew there were close to a hundred people out there, waiting. For me to make them laugh. Just waiting. At that moment, one thought crossed my mind: what was I thinking?

Whoever decided grief could be processed through comedy has clearly never experienced it in front of a hundred strangers. Stand-up is either exhilarating or a complete disaster, and there’s no way to know which until you’re already up there with a microphone and no exit strategy. In my case, I needed to vent, to tell some funny stories about my husband and me. So here goes.

Exhibit A: The Log Ride

We were on the log ride at Disneyland with my thirteen-year-old daughter and her girlfriend when it hit me: the ride ends in a soaking, and we had dinner reservations that evening at a fancy restaurant. I was not about to show up looking like a drenched alley cat. So, in a stroke of genius, as we plunged into that ice-cold water, I yanked my tank top up over my head to protect my hair.

What I did not have underneath that tank top was a bra.

I felt triumphant. Hair dry, dignity intact, victorious. Right up until the loudspeaker cheerfully invited everyone to the photo counter to view the picture of us mid-splash. There I was, front and center, my two headlights on full beam for the camera.

I turned to my husband and said, “Go. Now. Get that photo before the girls see it.”

He looked at me, completely unbothered, and said, “I’ll never find our picture that fast.”

“Oh, you’ll find it. Trust me. You’ll recognize me right away,” I said.

Exhibit B: The Hotel del Coronado

Then came our tenth anniversary, spent at the very romantic Hotel del Coronado. We’d sightseen all morning and decided a nap was in order before our big anniversary dinner. I woke up first and figured I’d get a head start on getting dressed because glamour takes time.

So there I was, walking from the bed to the bathroom in nothing but my birthday suit when the hotel maintenance man knocked, waited about zero seconds, then swung the door wide open to change a lightbulb.

Now, I want you to picture this. Full frontal. In broad daylight. Not a stitch of clothing, not a strategically placed towel, nothing. Just me, standing there like a full-color centerfold nobody ordered, and a maintenance man holding a lightbulb who suddenly no longer cared one bit about his task at hand.

We stared at each other. Him, red-faced, mouth open, apparently having an out-of-body experience. Me, doing quick math on how many feet of hotel room stood between me and anything to cover myself with, and concluding the answer was too many.

He made a sound. I couldn’t tell you what language it was. Then he slammed that door shut so fast I felt the breeze, presumably setting a new hotel maintenance land-speed record and possibly wondering whether he still had a job.

My husband woke up to the sound of the door slamming and said, “Who was that?”

I said, “That was housekeeping. We forgot to put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the front of the door.”

When we got home, we weren’t exactly shocked to receive a personal invitation from the Del’s General Manager, inviting us back for our next anniversary. All meals included. A beachfront suite with an ocean view. I’ll admit it, I felt a secret pride that one man’s unscheduled eyeful had turned into an all-expenses-paid weekend. Somewhere, that maintenance man is still telling this story, too, after completing the mandatory therapy.

After sharing those two stories on stage that night, I felt a rush of energy. Alive. Slightly unhinged, but in the best way. I craved more humor and joined a Clean Comedy group that performs around town. Since then, I’ve been gathering material: theatre performances, commercials, movie extras, and, surprisingly, some hotel notoriety.

I truly believe that doing things that make you happy, even the things that pull you way out of your comfort zone, changes the shape of your future. Sometimes it even gets you a free ocean view.

Bobbie Bennett