THE ART OF BARKING AND THE FEAR OF COMEDY

BY: Tyler Sonnichsen

This March will mark the two-year anniversary of the Laughing Lizard Comedy Showcase. Like every room, it took time to get going and established. To start a comedy show like it, all you need is some motivation, and a cadre of incredibly talented and supportive friends to keep the shows consistently good. Actually, you need a lot more when it comes to starting a comedy room, but I'm going to get right into a few simple points, and elaborate on exactly one of them.

1. Just fuckin' do it.
2. Run the room the way you would want a room to be run.
3. Get to know as many people at the bar/club/coffeeshop/wherever as well as you can.
4. If there is a sidewalk or visible roadway, SANDWICH BOARD SIGN!! For real.
5. Unless you're in a situation where you absolutely need to charge admission or pay anyone, don't.
6. Deal with the fact that at times, you're going to have to be an asshole.
7. Don't be too proud to bark for the show, ever.

[That last point, strangely enough, has led to some of the most interesting moments in the history of the room so far. HIT THE JUMP!]

Old Town Alexandria is full of all types around 9-10 pm on any given Saturday evening: locals, tourists, old people, young people, different races, languages, religions, and the most otherworldly of the species, Bachelorette Parties. Old Town dwellers are indeed a diverse crowd sometimes, but most of them all have one thing in common- they are terrified of free comedy.

What terrifies people of free comedy so much? They're afraid that the comics are just going to make fun of them. After all, a free comedy show can't be THAT good, can it? My roommate's girlfriend admitted to me that she'd had a similar concern until they finally came out to a show last summer, and they watched Justin Schlegel bring the house down. I appreciated her admitting that to me, and that she's reformed her ways. That prejudice has been the bane of some of the best comedy shows. Honestly, a group of twenty-something barhoppers knows what they're getting into by crossing the street and heading into the Rock It Grill. Sure, hearing someone karaoke-ing out shitty Live songs from 1994 isn't nearly as much fun as going to a standup show full of people you have never heard of, but these people don't know that. Plus, at other places, they can drunkenly shout at each other over the music.

So, the next best thing to prepare for a show and make an event out of it is to assemble in front of the venue, as many comics do before shows, and announce it with an appropriate amount of enthusiasm to potential audience members.

Many of our on-the-street techniques have gained attention. Take, for example, Aparna Nancherla and John McBride doing their best capoeira-style fighting. Sure, it has nothing to do with comedy, but it amuses us.

We often get those jackasses who say, "Oh, are you guys comedians?? Tell us a joke!" We just use that 'in' to say that they need to come in, grab a cheap drink, and pay no cover to watch us do it.

If you're Tyler Richardson, gently imply that someone's racist if they ignore you and don't come to the show.

A couple of times we get people who claim they're funnier than any of the comedians, such as one woman last November, who, as Doug Powell commented, looked like Rod Stewart came in her hair. (That makes perfect sense if you saw her). These people are nearly shoe-ins to be hecklers, but everyone deserves a chance, since an audience member is an audience member is an audience member. And people do surprise you and settle down a lot once they sit down.

The amount of people who came in expecting nothing and wound up amazed is one of the greatest assets to running a comedy room. Like my friend Jake Young, who just started the successful first installment of the Awesome Room in Silver Spring, so frequently says, we need to do what we can to awaken the sleeper cells of DC comedy fans out there who don't realize yet what a gold mine of entertainment they're sitting on. And as friend and DCC4N founder Nick Turner says so much that it's starting to lose its meaning, "Let's Do This, DC!"