Midtown showdown

            I've lived in the city for quite a few years now, and I happen to spend most of my time in mid-town because of work so I'm pretty familiar with its streets. However, yesterday I was walking along 53rd street, in the wrong direction, to see a friend of mine perform at a comedy club that evening. If it's the wrong direction, I'm probably going in it. While I was trying to figure out the building numbers I looked up at the street sign to see if I was even on the right track when and noticed, to my complete surprise and amazement, that I was not on 7th Avenue, nor was I on 6th Avenue, aka, Avenue of the Americas, but I was actually on Avenue 6 1/2. What the...? There has never been as long as I've lived in New York City a 6 1/2 Avenue, until now apparently. I'm not sure when this street suddenly appeared, but I was standing smack dab in front of it's sign looking up at it like a lost tourist from a foreign land while pedestrians grumbled past me because I was blocking their mile a minute pace in my stupor. I know it's been a while since I've been above 49th street, but what the... I felt like I was on my way to Hogwarts and I found the hidden street that would lead me to the gateway at King's Cross. For those of you who are not familiar with New York City streets, the Avenues run from north to south in, a somewhat, numerical order across the middle of the island. Starting with York on the far eastern side, the avenues then go from First, Second, Third, etc. to Twelfth Avenue, all the way over on the west side. Obviously, I was going the wrong way, so after shaking myself back to reality, I backtracked and finally found The Broadway Comedy Club sitting between 8th and 9th Avenue.

            The little place was slightly off of the tourist trail for the Times Square area so it was nice to leave the crowd behind when I got closer to the club.  As soon as I walked in I heard Mike's voice before I saw his face. His nonchalant murmur trailed from one end of the hallway, at the entrance of the theater, to my ears the second I opened the door. I knew Mike when he was a bartender shaking martinis and margaritas behind the bar at work before he left to move on to bigger and better things. In those days I always took Mike as reserved and introverted kind of person, even though I knew he was an aspiring actor. A year or two after his departure I found that he was hitting the comedy venues with a vengeance and doing pretty well from what I was hearing. I had plans to see one of his stand up shows for a while but they always seemed to conflict with the rest of my life. However, this time I made it a mission. I cut out of work early and made the 6 o'clock comedy inprov match in an effort to support his chances to go to Chicago for the championships. Also, who couldn't use a little laughter in their life?

            First off, I'm instantly impressed with anyone who has the guts to get up on stage and try to make New Yorkers laugh. I've been to a few live comedy shows in the past where I was so nervous for the comedians I started laughing out of nervousness while the joke was still in route to the punch line, just so that at least one person thought they were funny and they wouldn't feel discouraged. Second, the art of improv is a completely different beast in itself. The pressure of having to come up with something witty to say in the spur of the moment, while dozens, if not hundreds, of eyes look to you for a reason to shake their tummies, is a tough business. In this case, it wasn't just improvising that was the challenge it was the competition between two teams of comedians that put an edge to things. Having an opposing team could give gain to the ability to bring out the best in you or could easily drown you in your own bad jokes. If you don't have a good teammate to give you that CPR when you need it. You're done. Next!

            I've noticed, as my first time witnessing an improv match, that they're very similar to playing that age-old game, Mad Libs. Throughout the competition a "referee" collects random nouns and adjectives from the audience that they would in turn throw at the comedians, like curveballs, during their performances and frequently in mid joke. Most of the time this would improve the jokes, saving some from killing a good idea and everyone would be bent over in tears of laughter. Other times, it would throw them so far off guard that it was like watching a duck getting stuck with a flaming arrow, bringing them down in a blaze of fire. And there I'd be, the only one laughing nervously in the corner. I found myself in pain, one way or another.

            I had to hand it to Mike, he was able to hold his own and his team was strong. One of the members in his team was a guest from England and I could have sat there and watched her on that stage for hours. I couldn't believe the things that she could come up with in the rush of a new ball the referee threw her way. It was like pouring gas on a flame. The challenge seemed to ignite a depth of witticisms she must have been storing for years. Or maybe the British just have a better sense of humor. With her, Mike was unstoppable, and in the end, their team won and they lived to laugh another day. Chicago bound they go. And I...try to find my way back to 6th Avenue. I wonder if 6 1/2 is still there?