I’m having a nice quite Thursday evening. The eve of our nation’s birthday, finds me smoking Camels, drinking water out of a Pellegrino bottle, and humming along to The Arcade fire. Yes, It is a lovely moment.
I have spent the majority of my day running errands that until now had been largely forgotten about. I’m a last minute kind of guy. I know I shouldn’t be… Especially with the early bird getting the worm and all. (Or so I’m told is normally the case.) I’m one of those people that still actually prefer to go into the bank. I think its because I like to see what kind of people are waiting in the queue.
Everyone in the line has that “Aw… Fuck… can you get a move on it please?” look on their faces. Some of them are a little less glazed over than others, but no one looks thrilled to be at the bank.
The biggest hold up in the line comes from a homeless man who is trying to get the bank teller to accept all his unrolled change. He just kept pulling mounds and mounds of change from his pockets. The teller had a forced smile on her face. The manager strolled over and nodded to indicate that she should continue to put up with it. I found the whole thing amusing. The others did not.
One rather well dressed fellow, clinging to his briefcase, snaps… “This is bullshit… Why the fuck isn’t there an other teller on?”
I smiled, and kind of shrugged my shoulders. He just got angrier.
Briefcase Man: This is making me late for a meeting. This was just a waste of time. Huff (Rolls his eyes)… Fuck…
Me: I don’t mind waiting. I think it’s great that they are willing to give that poor fellow some attention… most people probably ignore him.
Briefcase Man: I don’t care… This just pisses me off…
Then came my turn, so I headed to the teller. She addressed me as Mr. Beaubier. She even pronounced my last name correctly. I love that. It never happens. In all the years that I have done stand up, I have had to correct nearly every MC at least once.
I finish up my business, and I can still hear the Briefcase man bitching from over by the “Special Clients” queue. It seems he got into the wrong line. I bet that burned his fuse just a little shorter.
Me: I hope your meeting goes well…
Briefcase man: Yeah Right… (Muffled voice…) This fucking line…
I open the door and escape out into the sunlight. Next stop, the post office.
It surprised me to find out just exactly how much time I actually spent in queues today. From the bank, to the post office, to Starbucks, to finally where I got my lunch, each one had a line. (For those of you who are interested, I had a BK Veggie Burger, Salad and a medium diet soda. I was amazed at how good the veggie burger was…)
In any case, I’m glad I brought my ipod. Music has always been a good pacifier for me. It keeps me patient. But I’m one of those people that spend so much time sifting through a song. I look for the little hooks in the music. A clever bass line, or a smart key change, and I become a puddle.
On to other stuff…
I had a fun show last night. The crowd was so quiet at the start of the show; I was convinced they were going to hate me. This was not the case at all. Holly told me that I would likely wake them out of their stupor. That was exactly what happened.
They just sat there like lumps for the first 3 acts. Then, as if I had just flipped a switch, they started to perk up and get into the show.
Anyway… enough babble from me…
End of Transmission.
1 comment:
Glad to see you sparked some life into the crowd...even after ruining your day with a Starbucks coffee (yuck) and a veggie burger (double yuck)!
I miss your blogs that inspired debate.
Your bank story sounds like the beginning of a bit. Work on it man!
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