Do you ever ask yourself that question?
Maybe you’re having a midlife crisis as you sit at the dinner table eating leftover turkey tetrazzini while your annoying stepkids are arguing over who gets to pick the Sunday night movie.
Maybe you just got a flat tire in a gang-ridden neighborhood at 1 AM and you can’t call for a tow truck because your phone is dead.
Or maybe you are about to perform for 9 people in a cavernous room in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.
You can’t stop the racing thought from pounding against your temples. HOW DID I GET HERE?
The rewards of performing in small towns are often abundant. Traveling to these places can be difficult so when entertainers decide to visit, the crowds are often filled with gratitude. If I’m performing in Chicago, I am one of a thousand things you could do with your evening. There are baseball games, hip-hop concerts, fifteen other comedy shows, biracial speed-dating events; you name it. But in a smaller market, you are often the best option. So people come, excited to see that guy they once saw on TV.
After three wonderful days in Las Vegas, doing shows and hanging with awesome friends, I took a red-eye flight, with a layover, to Sioux Falls. Having never been to the Dakotas, I was stoked to be in a novel place where I could sling my comedy to hoards of hungry fans. Traveling keeps me present. Every moment is brand new. My antennae are up, signaling and processing all of the new information that is flooding into my brain.
The trip started off a little rough. The promoter had forgotten to book me a hotel until the day before I arrived. Thanks to a massive rodeo and the city’s Comic Con, rooms were scarce. I ended up at a motel that hadn’t been remodeled since Johnson was president. Fine. It’s one night. I’ll barely be in it.
My show wasn’t until 9 PM so I spent the day exploring the city. On the road, I wander the streets, soaking up what the city has to offer. Sioux Falls is quaint, adorable, and has that classic midwestern charm that you miss when you live in a city like Los Angeles. People say hello to you without bothering you for drug money. It’s endearing. A pleasant change considering no one is asking me for change.
I decided to hit up Siouxper Con (Clever name!). Comic books are not my bag but I love immersing myself into a culture that is not my own. For the fans, this is their Burning Man. They are dressed in incredible costumes, celebrating what they love with like-minded individuals. This weekend is proof that they are not alone in their weirdness. They are a part of something so much bigger than themselves. It’s beautiful to see anyone in their element. I strolled through the booths, marveling at their costumes. Some I even DC’d. Get it? I watched a semi-pro wrestling event and cheered as loudly as anyone for a contender that looked surprisingly like me. I’ve smoked DMT and now watched someone pull off a DDT. Both of them transported me to a different world.
Now it’s time for the show. I take a lyft to the venue, a super cool gastropub with a large performance space. Looking at the stage, I know this is a place I can thrive. Even in big rooms with high ceilings, my energy will fill the space and make it feel intimate.
I was told there would be at least fifty people at this show, probably more. That’s why I did it. I was working off a door deal which means that I get the money from the tickets that are sold. Cool. This should be a good payday even if it is on the low end of what they told me. NOPE.
As we got closer to showtime, almost no one was in the venue. I quickly realized this evening was going to be a bust, financially and creatively. “Fuck me” was the resounding feeling. Now in this situation, I will never take it out on the crowd. Those nine people showed up and I have to give them the best show I can possibly muster.
Before I go on stage, I tell myself; “Have fun up there. Whatever it takes. Enjoy yourself.” And I did. While not an ideal situation, I can only control the circumstances that have been placed before me. I poured my heart out to that handful of patrons, leaving it all on the stage. I can happily say that the people there enjoyed themselves, but even still, there was an overwhelming feeling of emptiness and failure trickling throughout my body.
You can easily lose yourself in a situation while it is happening. Once I got back to the roadside shack they called a hotel, that’s when my positive mindset was truly tested. “Why do I do this to myself? When will it get better? How many years will I struggle with obscurity?”
As many as it takes. This is the life I have chosen for myself. A traveling vagabond slinging jokes to whoever will listen. There are nights that are incredible. Sold out shows with hundreds of people. There are also nights like this, when my resilience has to permeate the negative feelings that are doing their damndest to make me hole up and quit.
I know this is simply part of the journey. Shows like this could derail my mentality, but instead I go the other way. I use them to learn what I can do differently. How can I improve my marketing? How can I ensure that when I go to a new city, people will show up regardless of whether they have heard of me or not? I have to do this all over again in Fargo, North Dakota tomorrow. All I can do is believe that the circumstances will be better. Fargo and Forget.
I’ll continue to push forward. One crappy night in Sioux Falls is still better than every night I spent in the hospital dealing with cancer and sepsis. At least this shoddy shithole didn’t have machines that kept beeping every six minutes.
I don’t know if I will ever return to Sioux Falls but if I do, the situation will be different. Nothing will stop me from getting everything I want.
Every experience is here to teach us. It is our job to accept the lesson. My takeaway from this evening: I should have become an amateur wrestler.