THE OTHER SEPTEMBER 11TH
Stand-ups are a self-absorbed bunch. And we leap on any opportunity to feel our career choice is valid, and not an excuse to avoid a real job. And of course we have no problem defying convention and taking our own slants on topics held sacred or solemn by the general populace.
So it shouldn’t be a huge spit-take to reveal that I have a positive memory associated with the date of September 11th.
I was lucky enough not to have known anyone directly affected by the World Trade Center attacks five years ago. As a result, I feel quite distanced from the events now, looking at them with the detachment that I look at most tragedies in history. They get me sad or mad as an abstract testimony of man’s inhumanity to man, but it’s not really reaching me on a personal level anymore. I do remember I was affected on the day the attacks happened, in terms of the horror of people dying and a great desire to see vengeance done (if Afghanistan had gotten nuked the next day I would have been in the “that’ll learn ‘em” camp). So it definitely triggered strong emotions at the time.
The Bush administration’s handling of things since then has pretty well dissipated the impact of that day, tainting it with the reek of their opportunism and cynical exploitation of the attacks for their own imperial ends. Seeing the warlords fast-track invasions against enemies they’d been wanting to bump off anyway has killed any sort of belief that America the country was ever or could ever be an innocent victim. But anyway, enough of that.
Two years later I was in Appleton, Wisconsin at the Skyline Comedy Club. For me, the anniversary was already fading a bit in its deeper meaning, mainly affecting me in the “wow, has it already been that long?” kind of way. I was mainly focused on doing my second show that weekend. The first one had been the night before, Wednesday, and already this club was etched on the list of my favorite places I’d ever played. So, when I hit the stage I wasn’t thinking of terrorism or anything particularly heavy or profound.
I was reminded of the date almost immediately as I introduced myself to the audience as being from Canada. Someone yelled out something like, “That’s where the terrorists live!” I was a bit struck by that, and very plainly said, “Yeah, great timing to bring up something like that,” or something to that effect. I don’t know if I meant it as a comeback or a scolding, but it came out as a bit of both such that there was a sort of murmur of agreement from the crowd. And then 9/11 was never mentioned again.
What followed was possibly my best set that year, as the crowd responded to everything with free-wheeling hysteria. I captured it on my tape-recorder and listened to it the next day. And it struck me that the laughter was really hearty. There were perhaps 300 people in this crowd, and they were really letting go. The rest of the weekend was a blast, but nothing really beat this particular night, and I couldn’t help thinking it had something to do with the anniversary. Whereas the days and weeks following the attacks in 2001 were a time of trepidation about whether or not comedy was “appropriate”, two years later a few hundred Americans in small-town Wisconsin made the decision to go out to a show and laugh. They were going to take a break from fear, grief, anger and frustration and enjoy themselves. And they did.
Often this comedy job doesn’t feel terribly important. We don’t really contribute to society’s well-being as much as doctors or postal workers or law enforcement or any number of “real” jobs. And even when we have good shows, it usually feels like it’s more for our own benefit. We’re the ones who take away the lessons learned, or the boost in experience, credentials or status that will help our careers down the road. For the crowd our stint on stage may well be a fleeting distraction that could have been replaced by a movie, meal, lap dance or any number of similar distractions people use to kill time on a night out. But I still think fondly of that night in Appleton as one of those times when the job seemed worthwhile. Ultimately I was still just a fleeting distraction. But it was for a group of people who really wanted one, maybe even needed one. The idea that I helped make some people feel glad to be alive on the anniversary of a very dark day makes me proud. Comedy did some good. It’s almost like stand-up is a real job, after all.
I guess that all seems very cut and dried, as silver linings go. Don’t get me wrong, I agree with those who view 9/11 as a horrible reminder of how messed up the world is. You’d be nuts not to get a little depressed. But the other 9/11 marked one of my favorite nights of 2003. So I’m thinking of both today. It’s a bit self-centered, but what the heck? Stand-up has its privileges.
That Thursday night in Wisconsin was one of them.
Stand-ups are a self-absorbed bunch. And we leap on any opportunity to feel our career choice is valid, and not an excuse to avoid a real job. And of course we have no problem defying convention and taking our own slants on topics held sacred or solemn by the general populace.
So it shouldn’t be a huge spit-take to reveal that I have a positive memory associated with the date of September 11th.
I was lucky enough not to have known anyone directly affected by the World Trade Center attacks five years ago. As a result, I feel quite distanced from the events now, looking at them with the detachment that I look at most tragedies in history. They get me sad or mad as an abstract testimony of man’s inhumanity to man, but it’s not really reaching me on a personal level anymore. I do remember I was affected on the day the attacks happened, in terms of the horror of people dying and a great desire to see vengeance done (if Afghanistan had gotten nuked the next day I would have been in the “that’ll learn ‘em” camp). So it definitely triggered strong emotions at the time.
The Bush administration’s handling of things since then has pretty well dissipated the impact of that day, tainting it with the reek of their opportunism and cynical exploitation of the attacks for their own imperial ends. Seeing the warlords fast-track invasions against enemies they’d been wanting to bump off anyway has killed any sort of belief that America the country was ever or could ever be an innocent victim. But anyway, enough of that.
Two years later I was in Appleton, Wisconsin at the Skyline Comedy Club. For me, the anniversary was already fading a bit in its deeper meaning, mainly affecting me in the “wow, has it already been that long?” kind of way. I was mainly focused on doing my second show that weekend. The first one had been the night before, Wednesday, and already this club was etched on the list of my favorite places I’d ever played. So, when I hit the stage I wasn’t thinking of terrorism or anything particularly heavy or profound.
I was reminded of the date almost immediately as I introduced myself to the audience as being from Canada. Someone yelled out something like, “That’s where the terrorists live!” I was a bit struck by that, and very plainly said, “Yeah, great timing to bring up something like that,” or something to that effect. I don’t know if I meant it as a comeback or a scolding, but it came out as a bit of both such that there was a sort of murmur of agreement from the crowd. And then 9/11 was never mentioned again.
What followed was possibly my best set that year, as the crowd responded to everything with free-wheeling hysteria. I captured it on my tape-recorder and listened to it the next day. And it struck me that the laughter was really hearty. There were perhaps 300 people in this crowd, and they were really letting go. The rest of the weekend was a blast, but nothing really beat this particular night, and I couldn’t help thinking it had something to do with the anniversary. Whereas the days and weeks following the attacks in 2001 were a time of trepidation about whether or not comedy was “appropriate”, two years later a few hundred Americans in small-town Wisconsin made the decision to go out to a show and laugh. They were going to take a break from fear, grief, anger and frustration and enjoy themselves. And they did.
Often this comedy job doesn’t feel terribly important. We don’t really contribute to society’s well-being as much as doctors or postal workers or law enforcement or any number of “real” jobs. And even when we have good shows, it usually feels like it’s more for our own benefit. We’re the ones who take away the lessons learned, or the boost in experience, credentials or status that will help our careers down the road. For the crowd our stint on stage may well be a fleeting distraction that could have been replaced by a movie, meal, lap dance or any number of similar distractions people use to kill time on a night out. But I still think fondly of that night in Appleton as one of those times when the job seemed worthwhile. Ultimately I was still just a fleeting distraction. But it was for a group of people who really wanted one, maybe even needed one. The idea that I helped make some people feel glad to be alive on the anniversary of a very dark day makes me proud. Comedy did some good. It’s almost like stand-up is a real job, after all.
I guess that all seems very cut and dried, as silver linings go. Don’t get me wrong, I agree with those who view 9/11 as a horrible reminder of how messed up the world is. You’d be nuts not to get a little depressed. But the other 9/11 marked one of my favorite nights of 2003. So I’m thinking of both today. It’s a bit self-centered, but what the heck? Stand-up has its privileges.
That Thursday night in Wisconsin was one of them.
posted by David Pryde at 7:41 PM
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