“We paid $100 for this shit?”
The man raised his voice as he spoke to ensure everyone in the room heard his words. Seconds later he stood up with his girlfriend and walked out. I was only 25 minutes into my headlining set. Needless to say, it was not going as swimmingly as I had hoped.
I’ve been a standup comedian for 13 years. In that time I’ve performed thousands of times and most of them have been positive experiences. As a genuinely happy person, I want the audience to feel the same. Laugh your face off, sustain that feeling, and float out of the room when the show is over. This is supposed to be an escape from real-world problems. But in any profession, sometimes you’re going to have a bad day at work.
This past weekend I happened to have the worst set of my entire career.
In comedy, we call it “bombing.” Other terms in the vernacular include: eating a bag of dicks, taking a huge shit, and dying. No matter how you spin it, it is horribly uncomfortable for everyone involved. Imagine sitting on a sharp rod for an hour while increasing amounts of weight are added to your limbs, continually pulling you toward the ground while the pole digs in harder. Unless you’re a total sadist, it’s one of the worst feelings a person can experience.
It’s Friday night in Dallas, Texas. I’ve been on the road for a week headlining venues in Arizona, California, Kansas, and Oklahoma. Every show had been excellent and they were all at clubs that I hadn’t played before. First impressions are important and between my sets and my ticket sales, I was having one hell of a little tour.
The early show was great. It took some shucking and jiving on my part to figure out exactly how to get the whole crowd on my side but eventually, I succeeded. Everyone walked out and wanted to take photos, buy merch, and thank me for a terrific evening. A natural high. My second favorite kind. Wink wink.
Let’s go, show number two.
Any comic will tell you that the late show on Friday is notoriously the worst of the weekend. The crowds are tired from work, usually drunk, and often they have received free tickets. Comedians despise this show. Personally, I enjoy the challenge. Maybe there’s a bit of sadist in me after all. Insert rod now.
The crowd was small. Just shy of 30 people. Not an issue. I’ve had hundreds of shows with that size or smaller and I can always find a way to smash their chuckle buttons. Doesn’t matter that it’s already 11:15 PM. With 45 minutes of stage time, I will find a way to relate and unite this crowd. About ten minutes into my set, I realized something wasn’t connecting.
“Don’t panic,” scrolls across a neon sign in my head.
Pivot the material. Try something else. So I did. And then again. And again. Jokes, crowd work, making fun of myself; absolutely nothing was hitting.
At a certain point, it felt right to admit it. I relayed to the small group of bored patrons that this was not how I wanted this to go. I am a people-pleaser and I want us all to walk out feeling lighter than when we came in. “I’ll get you,” I told them.
Only I didn’t.
There were random laughs here and there but overall it was a deafening silence. If you can hear the air conditioner, it’s not going well.
As a group, they decided my comedy was not for them. However, I am a professional and I never give up. This would take relentless amounts of work to figure out how to salvage this show and I was ready to do anything. Then it happened.
A couple in the second row said, “Where’s Ralph?”
Ralph was the opening comic of the evening and he had just done 20 minutes before I got on stage. He did well and had laughs throughout his set.
That comment was meant to rattle me but I know better.
So I went into a joke that has been one of my killers for years. It essentially never fails. This time, it did.
The couple got up and walked out after making sure their disappointment was felt by everyone. The man said some other things that were odd flexes and as much as I hate to have anyone not enjoy the show, I was glad they left. “We paid $100 for this shit?” Yes, sir, you did.
When I knew they were gone, I called them “rude c*nts.” Immediately, I felt awful. That’s not a word I use often but it’s what came to me at the moment. Using such a powerful slur did not help my cause.
The next half hour was as brutal as can be. It seemed that no one was having a good time, which is my personal nightmare. Everything slows down as an invisible wall is erected between performer and patron.
53 minutes.
That’s how long I bathed in their stares. I pulled every trick out of my bag and none of them worked. I even invited people on stage to do some interviews/speed roasting and it was still met with apathy.
In my opinion, an epic failure of performance. I never blame the audience when a show doesn’t go well. These same jokes have been crushing for weeks so I wanted to figure out why they suddenly weren’t getting laughs.
I understand that not every crowd is going to enjoy my style of comedy. I like to make you think. I often go from A to C because I want you to fill in the gaps and connect the dots. But some people need A to B. Especially if they are tired and drunk. That’s not who I am and I will never play down the intelligence of a group of people. Come with me or don’t, but I won’t pander.
Finally, the excruciation was over.
I took a play out of Norm Macdonald’s book and instead of hiding in the green room, I stood at the exit with a smile on my face and personally thanked everyone for coming. It wasn’t easy, but it felt necessary to show that I was still grateful to them for being there.
A few people told me that they really enjoyed it but at that point, it was hard to appreciate the sentiment. When the last person was gone, I was incredibly relieved that it was all over. That rotten feeling, however, remained as strong as ever within my body. So I went out with the servers and poured different colored liquids down my gullet to forget about it. Shots on me, everyone!
The next day, I woke up in a garbage mood.
While I know that no comedian is ever immune from bombing, it had been over a year since I had anything close to this level of soul-crushing annihilation. I wanted to black out the windows in my hotel room and crawl under the blanket.
But I know better. Stewing in misery won’t help me break away from the stench of that show. Instead, I did the exact opposite.
Self-care Saturday. I ate a healthy breakfast at a local cafe. I ran five miles while listening to my favorite songs. I did a breathwork session to flush out the negativity. 30 minutes of meditation. Wrote multiple pages in my journal. Called family and friends so I wouldn’t feel alone. Hit up comic friends to talk about it. I had to Taylor Swift this thing. It wasn’t a TV taping. It was a handful of strangers at a club in Dallas. SHAKE IT OFF (Taylor’s Version).
I decided to post about it on social media.
Transparency is important to me. Everyone has had a shit day at work and this happened to be one of mine. Sharing the experience was the right decision. I was flooded with hundreds of messages from friends, fans, and fellow comics. The positive encouragement was exactly what I needed. “Humility equals humanity,” commented one follower. So many beautiful people thanked me for being honest. This is a side of comedy most fans will rarely see.
I can’t take a bomb like that personally. It’s difficult not to, but again, you can’t always please everyone.
Sometimes there are factors beyond your control. The best comics had lots of shows like this. Hedberg, Hicks, Norm, Kinison. Kinison often wouldn’t leave until he walked everyone. I only had two people leave. I guess I need to try harder.
With separation and perspective, I’m glad it happened.
Getting kicked in the face teaches you lessons. You can’t look good and get better at the same time.
Maybe 30 strangers didn’t enjoy me but since I exposed myself emotionally, thousands of people will now have a deeper appreciation for who I am as a person and performer. The tether between myself and my supporters has been woven even stronger than it was before. I call that a win.
Saturday night, I had two shows in Fort Worth.
150 people at each one. I began my set by shitting all over Dallas and each time the room erupted with applause. I had two of the greatest shows I’ve had in a long time. Took lots of photos, gave out lollipops, and hugged as many fans as I could. Exactly what I needed to end my tour on a high note. Time to go home, cuddle my wife, and fuck my pugs. Wait. Strike that. Reverse it. Yikes.
No one is immune from a bad day. It happens to everyone and you never know when it’s coming. How you handle it is completely up to you. If you know someone is having a rough day, share this with them. Sometimes we all munch on a bag of smelly, unwashed dicks.
Don’t give in to your demons. And if you’re doing a Friday late show in Dallas, please stay on your toes.
If you want more a of peek behind the scenes of the life of a touring comedian — follow me, Alex Hooper, on Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok. On socials, I get vulnerable, silly, and frequently there are pugs. (