Moving Scenes: Arizona

In the 10 years I’ve been pursuing stand up comedy, I’ve lived in four states. I started in Massachusetts where I grew up and went to college. I continued in Arizona where I moved for my first (real) job promotion. I returned to New England buying a house in New Hampshire because teachers can’t afford Massachusetts. Now I’m in Florida because I’m a 33-year-old man with daddy issues. I’ve enjoyed not staying in one place too long and I’d put money on me moving again at some point in the future. With each move, however, came the same challenge of integrating yourself into a new comedy scene.

Comedy scenes exist in just about any area that has a bar with a karaoke night. In any population where there’s an opportunity to speak insane thoughts into a microphone, you’ll find local comics taking turns running weekly open mics. Every scene has a couple delusional narcissists, and a larger group that judges them because they lack the self-awareness to realize they’re the same. To look at a group of bar patrons enjoying their night and think, “You know what would make EVERYONE’S night better? If EVERYONE paid attention to ME!” there has to be SOME level of narcissistic delusion involved.

The first big move for me was leaving the Boston comedy scene for Phoenix, AZ. By the time I left Massachusetts I was a regular at open mics with a solid 15 minute act for occasional paid opening spots. Hitting an open mic was one of my top priorities when I got to Phoenix. I had researched a few different comedy scenes and decided Phoenix had a perfect balance of a strong local show/open mic scene, and legit comedy clubs to strive towards. Although I’d probably look back at my tapes from that year and cringe, it was exciting to be a new face in a new scene with at least some experience under my belt.

Within two years I was hosting the Tempe Improv and Stand Up Live about once a month. That’s when the ups and downs began to feel extreme. The difference between a good week of open mics and a bad week of open mics was never significant. Good or bad it was practice, the comedy equivalent of going to the gym for sparring. But working weekends at the club and making a few hundred bucks at a time… that was the comedy equivalent of opening up a PPV fight night. That was literally living the dream. The difference between THAT and a bad week of open mics was devastating.

I would try to remind myself to be grateful because so many people don’t ever get that awesome experience. There was always this fear that the last one would actually be THE last one. If a month went by without another opportunity I would start to panic. I hit a point during one of these lows where I was literally in tears thinking I should stop doing this, it’s not good for my mental health, I’m not any good, etc. All the negative self talk of an Adam Sandler character. Then my phone rings.

I didn’t have the number saved but I had a feeling it was important. It was Stand Up Live calling on a Tuesday because Nate Bargatze was coming in on Thursday and wanted a clean host.

“Can you work clean?” asked Stand Up Live.

“Yes!” I lied.

I spent the next 48 hours carefully going through my act rewriting any unnecessary cursing, taking out bits that were dirty, replacing them with newer bits I could keep clean. Thursday night went just okay. I’ll never forget Casey Currier, the manager and booker at the time, coming into the green room after my set while the feature, Brian Bates, was on stage. With Nate Bargatze sitting right there, Casey came in like my little league coach. He was breaking down my set pointing out what would work better here and there, giving me very solid practical advice which in comedy is not always easy to communicate. He dabbed me up and told me it was good, but that tomorrow would be great!

As soon as he left , it was just Nate and I in the green room, Nate leaned in and goes, “Hey, just so you know, nobody does that. I’ve never seen a club manager care how the host did let alone give him advice like that during the show. That was awesome! Don’t expect it everywhere.” I’m definitely paraphrasing, but that was his message and it stuck with me. I still recall Casey’s feedback from that night when I’m preparing for a big show today. I also highly recommend comics go through their act and try to make it clean. Even if you never use it, it’s a great writing exercise that will help you see your act in a different light.

We had six shows that weekend, and the next five were significantly better than the first. I put Casey’s advice to use. I tried my best to act normal and not be weird around Nate. I think it went well because after the last show we drank at Copper Blues until about 3am! At one point during the night I got to have one more one-on-one with Nate about comedy, and this one struck a chord because it raised a question I still think about today. Again paraphrasing, Nate said, “If you want to do this for real, you have to be obsessed with it! If all you want to do with this is have a few fun weekends here and there, and make a little money on the side, then that’s great. But if you want to go for it you need to be obsessed with it!”

Then, my wife walked back in with some drinks, and Nate continued, “And she’s just… gonna have to deal with it.”

Eventually we moved back to New England because rent was going up, teacher pay was not, and it was so expensive to travel from Phoenix to Boston to visit family. The next couple years was strange. I was starting to get booked again slowly but surely through 2019. Mostly North of Boston because I wasn’t driving into the city as much as when I first started. It felt like as soon as I got traction, Covid hit. I didn’t do many shows the next year. I started streaming video games because I didn’t know how else to stay busy without comedy in my life.

I was teaching remotely at the time, so my gamer set up was the perfect place to work. During remote Parent-Teacher Conferences, I had a crazy small world moment! One of the parents was a local headliner whom I had seen at shows named Robbie Printz. I asked if I could chat with him one on one after our conferences and reminded him who I was and how we met. That unexpected connection got me back on stage. A club named Zingers in New Hampshire was hosting a remote comedy show that was broadcast from their actual stage. It was a huge step up from the at home Zoom shows many had put on. They had big TV’s facing the stage so you could see the audience. I became obsessed again.

How far do I want to take this? Do I actually want this to be my career or do I just want it to be a fun side hustle? These are the questions I’m debating in my head when I stare off into space. I still go back and forth on it, which I think is healthy. As long as I’m continuing to move forward and taking care of my present situation, I think it’s wise to constantly evaluate the dream you’re chasing. My good friend Alex Giampapa once told me, “You have to love it more than you hate it.” A motto from his college wrestling days that he applies to the comedy grind as well. I still love the highest highs more than the lowest lows, so I’m still going.