NY Hustle - Nov 23rd - 2007

NY Hustle

Friday, 23rd November

I stepped out of the 42nd street subway station into a cold February day. People walked hand in hand. I trudged through Times Square with my head down. I didn’t want anybody to see me. Not for the next hour anyway. It had been over a year since we started the comedy room in the back of Joe Franklin’s Restaurant. Me and my ‘comedy friends.’ It was a simple concept. We ran a comedy room (essentially a microphone stand in front of a bunch of chairs) in the back of a restaurant located a block from Times Square. No more scraping for 1 am spots around town. We could book ourselves as many times as we wanted and practice our craft -- for a price. “Here you go, Shetty.” Jake stuffed a handful of colored flyers into my mitten. “Where is everybody?” I asked. “Just us barking tonight and Melissa working the door. Everybody else is out of town.” I hated barking. ‘Barking’ is going out into the streets and recruiting strangers for our comedy show. On most nights, we had 6 comics to help pack the room. 5 on the street, 1 to stay at the door and collect money. Because we were understaffed, tonight would be harder. We barked once a night, twice on Friday/Saturday (weekend late shows). We were there throughout the year: summer, winter, fall, winter, spring, winter. It was such a part of my life that when I think of NY, that’s all I remember. The corner of 45th and Broadway. The lingering stench of the garbage cans. The neon ‘Lindy’s” sign glowing beside me. The freezing wind. In four years, I had blended into the scenery, no different than a street lamp. Jake and I headed out the front door. Like two soldiers stepping onto the Vietnam battlefield, we went our separate ways. “See you in an hour.” “Comedy show!” I yelled from my corner. A lady stopped. “Who’s on it?” “Me!” She rolled her eyes and continued walking. The cold started eating away at my fingers. A half hour went by. 30 minutes of ‘No thanks’ ‘We have reservations,’ and ‘Sure, I’ll come back later.” I gave a flyer to a passing man. A minute later, the paper came back to me, tumbling with the wind along the sidewalk. “Forget this. I’m done.” I started walking back to the subway. I turned the street corner, stopping dead in my tracks. What I saw has stayed with me everyday since. It was a 25 year old man. His weathered face, tired eyes, no smile. In his left hand was a stack of colored flyers. I stepped closer to the glass doors. What the hell has happened to me? My phone started ringing. “Hello?” Jake’s voice yelled at the other end. “I just got two people in!” I need some help here!” I turned around and went back with a new sense of determination. “Comedy show!” An old man side-stepped past me. I quickly ran passed him and asked again. “It’s really good! Think it over!” He grumbled and took my flyer. That’s how it was. People still didn’t want my flyers, but it wasn’t going to stop me from trying. “HERE! TAKE THIS FLYER!” “I SAID NO!” “WELL THEN, BURN THIS FOR HEAT!” 300 flyers in my hand thinned out. 200… 100… 50… and finally nothing. I met Jake at the entrance. “Good job, Shetty.” We peered into the comedy room. I couldn’t believe it. Every chair was full. It was always interesting for me to see a stranger on the street and then to see him inside with his coat off. “You want to go first or second?” Jake asked. “It doesn’t matter.” I replied. It really didn’t. Looking back, the shows in itself meant nothing, but what I did to perform meant everything. ~Tarun

Russell Peters - Sept 18th - 2007

Russell Peters

Tuesday, 18th September

So I was checking my inbox the other day and I got this e-mail. “Tarun, do you hang out with Russell Peters? Are you guys doing a show together soon?” Well, there is no show, but I’ve gotten a few e-mails like this so I thought the following story was relevant: When I was doing comedy in NY, I randomly came across this comic named Russell Peters. I knew he was some guy in Canada, but that’s about it. So I was pretty surprised a few years later when his video was being forwarded to me on the internet. My mom called me up ‘have you seen this guy Russell Peters?’ Now, I’m pretty set in my own ways. I learned early on that show business is a race against yourself. If you think otherwise then you’re an idiot and you should quit now. Still, I was annoyed that people kept mentioning this guy to me because we’re both Indian. “Russell Peters, Russell Peters” Even my boss at work asked ‘Tarun, you do stand-up comedy, can you get me an interview with Russell Peters?” ENOUGH! I also used to take boxing classes with my friend Adam. There was a big fight on HBO and Adam calls me up. ‘Hey man, I met a comic at the Laugh Factory and he invited me to watch the fight at this house. I mentioned you and he said to bring anybody I want, wanna go?" "Yeah, what's his name?" "Russell Peters.” SOOOOO…. a few days later I’m in Hollywood at the edge of Russell’s driveway. I was just standing there looking at his house thinking, ‘this is not a good idea.’ I say this because although my two very best friends are stand-up comics, I find a lot of comedians irritating, especially those that are always ‘on’ which sometimes seems like everybody. I've also been doing comedy for 10 years and my closest friends have been in the trenches with me. I didn't want to meet anybody new. I turned around to go home when the 12 pack of Coronas slipped through the grocery bag I was carrying and crashed to the cement. "NICE JOB, MAN!” I turn around and there was Russell pulling up in his car with a big smile on his face. I rolled my eyes and started picking up the glass. Without going into too much detail, Russell gave me a tour of his house, showed me his DJ equipment and even made me a hamburger. I learned that the guy has been doing comedy some 17 + years. He has paid so many showbiz dues that somebody owes him money. He didn’t even know me but went more than out of his way to accommodate a total stranger. An hour later we were on his living room couch and he’s like ‘mind if I call a few friends?” Twenty minutes later I’m watching the fight and am sitting between Adam Corolla and David Allan Grier. (I know i don't have to mention this, but to me, it's the coolest part of the story. Adam told me that he used to be a carpenter and a boxing trainer!) It just goes to show, you can’t base anybody off what they seem like on TV or any pre-judged notions. I’ve only seen Russell a few times after that, and he's always extremely nice. (except for the time I tried to take him down upstairs at the Laugh Factory and he put me in a jiu-jitsu hold) other than that – he’s cool. If you haven’t heard of him, I recommend you check out his webpage at russellpeters.com or buy his comedy DVD ‘Outsourced’ which is probably available on his webpage. And if you still don't like him, go over to his house. He makes a great hamburger. Thanks Russell! --tarun

Stupid Gigs - Aug 22nd - 2007

Stupid Gigs

Wednesday, 22nd August

This journal entry is about a stupid gig I did about 6 years ago. I’m just telling you right now so you know. There’s no moral or message or any inspiration of hope. It’s just another gig, one of many, that I probably shouldn’t have done. If you’re still with me then you’re welcome to read on… So one day my friend Adam Hunter calls me up. I’ve known him for a long time, and at the time we were still passing out flyers together on the NY streets for stage time. ‘Tarun, wanna open for me?’ ‘Where?’ ‘Just show up at Chelsea Piers tomorrow at 11pm.’ ‘Done’ I liked opening for my friends. It was easy money and I only had to do about 20 minutes of material. (Which was all I really had at the time) Kind of like just warming up the audience and getting out of there. Perfect for an up and coming comedian. I show up the next night and Adam is standing by the docks. “Where’s the show?” “There!” He points to a half-sized cruise ship floating next to us. It sat peacefully, floating in the water, a stark contrast to the absolute doom that awaited us. “Excuse me?” Adam had big smile ‘It’s a high school prom show!” Oh God, did I hate these shows. They used to have them at New York Comedy Club at 2 am in the morning. The club would basically cart in about 80 high school kids who just finished their prom for a magical nightcap of stand-up comedy. What a dream! I didn’t care. It was 50 bucks. Being a comic is like being a prostitute with a microphone. “Let’s go!” We board the boat with the kids. At the time, both of us looked young enough to be in high school. However, like most of the high school prom shows I’ve performed for, this was an inner city school. Kids are speaking Spanish, wearing doo-rags with tuxedos, America’s future! We push off and the ship chugs around the harbor. Adam and I hang out outside by the lounge chairs. The ship sucked. It was dingy, the paint was peeling and it smelled of rotten fish. ‘Having fun?’ Adam asks. ‘The best.’ About forty-minutes into the voyage the DJ, a big fat guy who’s sweated through his shirt, approaches. ‘Which one of you is first? “Me. Tarun Shetty.” He shoves a wireless microphone into my hand and we follow him inside to a small dance hall. The first thing I noticed was how small the room was. All the kids were compacted into this tiny room, making it unbelievably hot. Rap music blared from two giant amps while a hanging strobe light shined red blue and green colors onto the wooden floor. Still, the kids were having fun. A night away from their parents and the pressures of school -- a taste of freedom. Suddenly, the music stops. The DJ’s Voice sounds from the speakers. “Everybody get off the floor!” A tiny spotlight from the DJ booth illuminates me. The kids look confused. The DJ gave me no intro whatsoever. For all they know, I’m the captain of the ship. I momentarily freeze like a deer in the headlights before launching into my act. “So I’m from New Hampshire, Anybody here from New Hampshire?” Silence. I do another 3 minutes before people start voicing their displeasure. “PUT ON THE MUSIC!” “BOOOOOO!” People are shouting, yelling profanities. Obviously, this wasn’t comedy. I was just some guy interrupting a prom. I do 5 more minutes and introduce Adam. I don’t really remember how Adam did. Maybe I blocked it out of my memory or I left the room in search of a lifeboat. Either way, this had to be one of my top 5 worst gigs. Adam and I made it back to the shore that night. I think we hid somewhere on the boat, in complete denial, bragging to each other that we were both incredibly funny and the crowd loved us. Although a monetary victory, I would later use the money several years later to pay a therapist and help cure the irreparable damage showbusiness has had on my mental psyche. It was just another gig. That’s all. This one just happened to be really, really stupid. Tarun

KO Kid - June 16th - 2007

KO KID

Saturday, 16th June

I have a lot of rage. I know I don’t seem like it, but I do. I keep it bottled away, which I’ve learned isn’t a good thing. So last year, I was driving somewhere in Hollywood and passed by a faded sign that read ‘Wildcard Boxing Gym.’ You couldn’t even see the gym from the road, you had to turn into the lot and drive in. I’ll always remember the first time I saw it. It didn’t even look like a gym. It was on the second floor of a decrepit two story building above a Chinese Laundromat. The paint was peeling, the window blinds closed. From inside I could hear the sounds of clenched fists hitting a speed bag. I walked in and everyone seemed to just stop what they were doing and stare. All the fighters were ragged and had this menacing look. I reached into my pocket and made sure my wallet was secure. I had discovered a secret boxing lair. In the land of beauty, fame and dreams was a place of blood, sweat and reality. The walls were lined with mirrors and cutout pictures of well-chiseled boxers. An old boxing ring was in the center of the room while large heavy bags hung from the ceilings. This was the real deal. I started working out that day and have continued to make a trip to Wildcard twice a week. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to learn and respect the art of boxing and work off a lot of stress. I’m not a bad, but certainly far from great or being considered a ‘prospect.’ I’ve been in the ring enough times with my trainer, Jason, to learn that I always drop my hands, and I get exhausted after a few rounds. Jason is a former pro fighter. He is smaller than me, but won the New York Golden Gloves boxing award. He is a cool guy who never made the Olympic team, but one day hopes to be an actor like everyone else in this town. I get along with almost everyone who works out there. The key word is ‘almost.’ The first time I saw ‘Baby Drago’ was a chance encounter. I was headed to my car and he was shadow boxing outside on the street. He was a white kid with a crew cut who always wore a gold warm-up jacket. He looks like a smaller version of the bad guy from Rocky 4 so I nicknamed him ‘Baby Drago.’ He is also very skilled with his hands and seemed to have been boxing a lot longer than me. Sometimes when I worked out, I’d catch him watching. I thought he was measuring me up. We had the same proportions. Height, weight, arm reach. Which means, if we were real fighters, we’d be in the ring together. One day I was wrapping hands (you wrap your hands with tape before you put on boxing gloves) and I heard a voice directly above me. “Let’s fight, three rounds.” I looked up, sure enough, there he was looking down. “Lets fight!” He repeated. He had a baritone voice, and I was a bit taken back that he really did sound like a movie bad guy without the foreign accent. “No thanks. I don’t spar.” Which was the truth. The only time I go into the ring was with a trainer who is there to teach me. “Come on, just for fun!” Wow-wee! Me getting punched in the face sounded like a great time!! “NO THANKS!” A few weeks later, I was hitting the heavy bag and ‘Baby Drago’ comes up to me again. “Come on, lets go one round!” I looked at him incredulously and then continued with my workout without saying anything. “p****.” He turned and walked away. One afternoon, I had just walked in the front entrance and sure enough, there was my new-found boxing friend using a jump rope. He saw me and quickly climbed into the ring. “Hey! Taroon!” I was a bit surprised that he even knew my name because I rarely talk to him. “Hey! Lets go!” Now he was dancing around the ring, bouncing off the ropes and had this big stupid smile on his face. At the time, I was at the gym with my friend Adam. I was in a really bad mood and was there because I really needed to hit something. “s**** this.” I said. “I don’t care what happens. “ It wasn’t till I got halfway to the ring that I realized that this was a big mistake. As playful as he looked, I knew that once I stepped inside he would try to knock me out. Normally you wear padded headgear, (which neither of us were wearing) so this was just a street fight with gloves in a boxing ring. I could hear my heart beat though my shirt. Everybody was watching so I couldn’t back out. Like a captured sailor walking the plank, I climbed the stairs to the ring and was about to face doomsday. “Hey!” I turned around and there was Jason, putting on his gloves. “I’ll go a few rounds! I need a workout!” I let out a sigh of relief and went back to the floor. Baby Drago’s eyes widened as Jason climbed through the ropes. I knew what he was thinking. Professional fighters are on another level. They work their entire lives to learn how to take a shot and most importantly, hit back. They fought. It lasted about 30 seconds. I could tell Jason wasn’t even trying and was holding his punches. Still, those Golden Glove hands moved lightning fast, throwing swift punch combinations. Baby Drago backed into the corner and waved off the onslaught. Jason climbed back outside and hit me in the shoulder. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Next time you can fight.” He smiled and resumed working the speed bag in the corner. “Yeah, next time.” I happily resumed my workout in peace. I learned an important lesson that day. It’s good to have friends, and even better if those friends can kick a**. Tarun

Interview with Mangalorean - May 3rd - 2007

Interview with Mangalorean.com

Thursday, 3rd May

I did an interview with Mangalorean.com. Check it out!  By: Team Mangalorean, USA Washington DC, March 26: Some people believe there are only two types of comediennes in this world. The one's who make you laugh by their actions and the one's who make you laugh by talking. So, which one are you? Are you the kind of person whose lips don't even twitch when you see two guys slamming pies in each others faces? Or are you the one who sits a wee bit forward in his seat and really listens when a witty person takes to the mike? If you are, well then, our own Mangalorean, Tarun Shetty is the man for you. Simply put, Tarun is a stand up comedienne who takes to his audience like a duck takes to water and what's more he doesn't just quack to make you laugh. Using wit and humor to entertain the world is Tarun's profession and he enjoys doing it too. Puts his heart and soul into it to be more precise. A product of NYU's School of Arts, Tarun has worked his way up the New York Comedy Club Circuit. He has worked for the Boston Comedy Club for two years and made his first television appearance on the Nickelodeon Show 'Laugh Out Loud' also in New York. In 2001, at the Harvard University Demon Comedy Fest, Tarun premiered a Short Film at the New York International Film Festival. In 2004, Tarun headed west and signed on as a correspondent for the Bollywood program, 'Showbiz India Extreme.' At present he is producer and host of the segment 'Generation Desi,' and travels across California in the course of his work. In addition, he continues to audition for film and television and tours the country to visit fans whenever he can. Tarun thinks it's no piece of cake to do stand up comedy. It's tough to make people laugh and those who think its easy need to try it out sometime. We think you just gotta have what it takes to be a stand up comedienne and Tarun certainly has it. Making people laugh is a talent. And in today's world it could even be a blessing. With Tarun however, laughter is simply the best medicine and he prescribes huge doses of it to his audiences. Tarun was born on 15th of August. Another Midnight's child? Must mean something surely. We asked Tarun and he had something profound to say about that. Tarun was also not averse to sharing some special thoughts with Team Mangalorean. When did the interest in Comedy start?  I fell down a flight of stairs when I was 8 and instead of helping, everybody laughed at me. I had a self-revelation, 'Next time this happens, I'm getting paid.' No, there wasn't an exact incident. I do remember being obsessed with American comedy stars in grade school. Then in study hall, instead of schoolwork, I'd be writing comedy sketches. I later sent all those ideas to real TV shows and wondered why nobody wanted to hire a 12 year old. Ever done a standup comedy act on Mangaloreans?  Not that I recall. The date of your birth coincides with Indian Independence Day. Being born and brought up in the US how 'Indian' are you? I was born and brought up in the United States but we made long three-month trips to India once every two years. I'm very Americanized, but my parents who are Mangaloreans, have exposed me to Indian culture here in America and did a good job instilling the proper values in me. If you had to choose between being a writer and a comedienne what would you choose?  I'd be a comic, but being a writer is essential to being a good comedian. If I wasn't able to write my own material for my stand-up, TV, movies, I would be useless to society. I never try to label myself anything specific. I'm a comic who also functions as an actor, producer, writer, stand-up. They all go together. At times, I have a very specific vision of what I want to make, and I need to do all these things to make it happen. If I can be truthful to myself, I'll be happy. Do you think there is a dearth of humor in this world?  There is plenty of humor in this world. Some people and places have more of it than others, you just have to be aware when it happens around you. What's your take on Bollywood? Any interest in joining the film industry sometime in the future?  I like Bollywood. I think it's great that Indians have a niche in the entertainment industry and I'm happy that it's starting to attract attention and interest from Hollywood. As for me joining Bollywood, probably not. I like to dance, and I think Govinda is a genius but my ultimate goal is to be successful in the United States. There have been a recent spate of stand up comedy shows and competitions on Indian Television. Is that a good thing? I'm not really for stand-up competitions, but I think it's very cool that Indians are taking a chance on stage and audiences are tuning in. I actually saw the stand-up show last time I was in Bangalore. Those judges look tough, but I'm all for creative expression. How often do you travel to India?  I went last summer. Not sure when I'll go again. What's the ONE big difference between being young in the USA and being young in India? Although I was young in India, I never grew up there in terms of going to school, having friends or facing problems and challenges that Indian kids have to deal with. As for being young in America, sure, there were moments, like on the basketball court, birthday parties, classroom, whatever. I'd remember that I was the only Indian kid and everybody else was white. But everybody where I lived was so friendly and accepting, I really forgot about it and had a pretty normal childhood. Tell us more about Showbiz India and your work with them.  'Showbiz India' is a South Asian show airing here in the United States. It focuses primarily on Indian entertainment which includes, events, music videos and Bollywood celebrities. I was hired by Showbiz India about two years ago to produce a segment called 'Generation Desi' for a new show called 'Showbiz India Extreme.' Essentially, the segment was just me, a host and the director, Atif Mirza, covering college Desi parties in California and interviewing very drunk Indians who probably shouldn't have been on camera. I'm not sure how it happened, but somebody got sick and I ended up hosting a lot of the segments. Somewhere along the way, I think both myself and the director, Atif Mirza, realized that we had no creative restrictions so we started shooting whatever we wanted. Around the same time, we started creating original content for the internet under our own banner, RaisingDesi Productions. We were getting lots of hits, and positive responses from around the world on my website tarunshetty.com and raisingdesi.com. All this pretty much led to where we are now, making our first movie. We still work on the television show. "Showbiz India Extreme' just got picked up by Zee TV in March so it will be broadcast pretty much everywhere. I'm scheduled for some correspondent work but I'm not sure how much I'll be on because I'm so wrapped up with other projects. 'Showbiz India' gave me the opportunity to meet a lot of great creative minds in Hollywood, develop my comedy and reach a lot of people who otherwise would have probably never heard of me. Team Mangalorean thanks Tarun for his time in answering our questions and wishes him the very best in his future endeavours!

Showbiz is for the Dogs - March 18th - 2007

Showbiz is for the Dogs

Sunday, 18th March

When I was trying to get into showbizness I was pretty much just a lowly college student. My family didn’t know anybody in the industry, and I wasn’t connected in any way. I was also debating whether I wanted to be a TV writer. You can imagine my excitement when I found out that I was selected to be the writers’ intern on the television sitcom ‘Spin City.’ At the time, Spin City was a hit television show on ABC and was, in fact, the only sitcom to tape in New York. I was very lucky. It starred Michael J. Fox, from one of my favorite movies “Back to The Future,” Heather Locklear and a bunch of other really funny actors. I had a few college internships so I knew what to expect. I did everything from grocery shopping for the writers, making copies of scripts and taking lunch orders. In return, the writers were super cool to me. They let me sit in on meetings and would include me in foosball games and whatever else was going on in the office. There was no way I was going to mess this up. That is until one day, I was on set and I met one of the actors, Richard Kind. He played the goofball guy on the show and didn’t seem a lot different in real life. He’s been in a bunch of stuff, and I guess you can Google him if need be. Anyway, I was on set one day and he had his dog with him -- Gratzi. It was a small dog, kind of like a terrier or something. I guess the dog was in-between the puppy and adult phase. Even though it was on a leash, it was pretty hyper and ran little circles around Richard. “Hey!” Richard called out to me. “You work with the writers right?” he asked. “Yes” “You like dogs?” In truth, I am very indifferent to dogs. I like smart dogs that are intelligent, but I can’t stand dogs that run around mindlessly. “Uh, sure.” “Here!” he put Gratzi’s leash into my hands. “How bout you take Gratzi out for a stroll.” “Ummmm.” I think Gratzi could feel the change of guard because as soon as the leash was in my hands, he took off with full force almost ripping my arm off. “Bye!” Richard waved. So off we went. Gratzi and I, by ourselves in New York. Now ‘Spin City’ taped in Chelsea Piers, which was an open area by the water. There were some docks so I thought that it would be a fine place to walk the dog. I started running up and down the pier with him. Richard also gave me a tennis ball. We had this game where I throw the ball, it would bounce off Gratzi’ head and then he would chase it down. Pretty stupid game if you ask me. After about a half hour of this, Gratzi laid down under a bench and closed his eyes. Finally! I looked at my hand which was now turning blue. I had wrapped the leash so tight that it was cutting off all blood circulation to my arm. I thought this was a good opportunity to untangle myself. I had just slipped the leash off my hand for a split second when Gratzi caught sight of another dog in the distance and took off. I could feel the leash escape from my hands and watched helplessly as Gratzi dragged it across the pavement. “Gratzi!” Gone. I spent the next hour walking up and down Chelsea Piers yelling out his name. “Gratzi! Gratzi! Gratzi!” Some Italian people by a bench looked at me awkwardly. ‘Gratzi’ means ‘thank-you’ in Italian. I guess I would find it strange if I saw a kid yelling to himself, “thank-you!” “thank-you!” “thank-you!” I did this for another hour. It was getting dark, and I had three missed calls on my cell phone from my supervisor who was probably wondering where the hell I was. I thought I was going to cry. Actually, I wasn’t but I was certainly trying. I took an acting class and thought if I could get myself to cry, then maybe Richard would feel bad and not strangle me. I headed back to Pier 12 building (it kind of resembled a large airport hangar) where ‘Spin City’ taped. As I walked to the set I could hear a faint bark from inside. I opened the door and there was Gratzi playing with one of the production assistants. I ran to them, waving my arms enthusiastically. “Where’d you find him?” “Outside. Hanging out. Are you supposed to be watching him?” Take note, there were 24 piers, which means 24 warehouses. For Gratzi to go back to the one where ‘Spin City’ taped was just incredible. I guess Gratzi wasn’t as dumb as he looked. She put the leash into my hand and I walked to Richard’s dressing room. He opened the door and gave Gratzi a big hug. “That was certainly a long walk!” “Wait don’t go anywhere. I want to give you something!” I thought he was going to give me 20 bucks for my troubles but instead he gave me a script to bring back upstairs to the writers. “Thanks.” That was the first of many memorable experiences at ‘Spin City.’ I would go on to walk Richard Kind’s dog a bunch of other times throughout the year. To be honest, I don’t think he even knew my name aside from ‘the kid that walks my dog’ but he always managed to find me and seemed somewhat grateful. One day soon, when I fulfill all my dreams, I’m going to hire Richard Kind. And you can certainly bet that he’ll be walking my dog. Woof-woof. ~tarun

6 Dollars - Feb 3rd - 2007

6 Dollars

Saturday, 3rd February

The road. It’s where comedians get good. I forget who, but some famous comic said there’s no way around it. Performing from club to club. Living out of a suitcase. Endless one night stands with the club waitress and drunk audience members. Then again, I don’t really know much about it. I’m just repeating what I heard from my friends. I’ve always wanted to be on TV which meant staying in town for auditions. I’ve done a lot of colleges and casinos here and there but I usually catch a flight home the next day. Except once… HAZY flashback sequence. It was around mid February. I was passing out flyers for stage time and freezing my a** off in NY. Three months earlier, I randomly submitted a tape to a booker and was getting the call now. “Hi, this is Jerry. We received your tape. Can you host at our Wisecrackers club this weekend in Scranton, Pennslyvania? ” Host? By now I had been doing comedy for about four years or something in New York. I had never heard of Scranton, Pennsylvania, plus I didn’t have a car. Of course, I just applied my non-sensical logic which has guided me through all important life decisions. “OK!” Three days later I was squeezed next to someone on a Greyhound bus to Scranton, Pennsylvania. It was about four hours away, and I was traveling with a busload of people. With each stop, the bus crowd slowly thinned out until I was sitting by myself. “Scranton, Pennsylvania.” the bus driver grumbled. I think he was annoyed that he had to drive all this way just for me. I took a cab to my motel, (I wasn’t old enough to rent a car, not that it mattered because I don’t think there was anything to rent.) “Are you lost?” The cab driver asked. “No, I’m a comic. I’m going to Wisecrackers comedy club!” I proudly stated. “That’s my favorite place!” “Obviously.” I thought. I had never been there but it was probably one of America’s top comedy clubs if they booked me, Tarun Shetty, 23 year old comedy sensation. We pulled into a motel with one car in the parking lot. I didn’t care. I was getting 75 big ones to do comedy. I marched into the lobby, with my chest out, head high, feeling great. “Who are you?” the desk clerk asked. “I’m Tarun Shetty – the comedian.” She looked at a list on the wall. “Oh, your room is right there.” She pointed to a door like five feet down the hall. “Can I get some room service?” I asked. “We don’t have a kitchen but we have a microwave and a vending machine.” She pointed to a big brown thing plugged into the wall. The on and off humming made it seem like it was dying a slow death in the corner. “How about the comedy club. Can I get a ride tonight?” She started laughing. “This is the comedy club!” She pointed to a set of double doors literally right next to my hotel door. Sure enough, inside was the motel showroom and I saw a xeroxed black and white picture of me hanging crooked on the wall. I went back to my room. There's a lot of things to do before showtime, especially in Scranton. Like sleep, write jokes, watch TV, sleep, read, call home, sleep, take a shower, more sleep. It seemed like I had just closed my eyes for the 15th time when I heard a loud knocking on my door. “10 minutes till showtime!” I threw on my crumpled ‘comedy shirt’ from my bag, stuffed some Skittles into my mouth and trudged five feet into the next room. There were about 30 people seated and two older men standing in near the bar. A lady approached me, waving her hands frantically. ‘Are you Tyroon? Ok, listen up. We have a packed show! (I guess 30 people was the whole town) I need you to do a tight 10 minutes up front and 4 and a half between each act. The red light is on the back wall. When you see it, wrap up, get off stage and don’t forget to mention the cheese stick specials.” I had no idea what she just said. “Sounds good!” I replied. I went to the bar, thinking shots of rum would clear my new headache. I ran into the other two comics trying to flirt with the bartender. One guy was really fat, the other had on all black and wore a black trenchcoat. I assumed his onstage comedy persona was some sort of serial killer or something. “Hey, guys. I’m the host. Can I get your credits?” They looked at me as if I embodied everything that was wrong with stand-up comedy. “Say whatever.” The fat man muttered and walked off. Trenchcoat guy starting listing off credits. “MTV, A&E, Conan O’Brien…” “You were on Conan O’Brien?” I interrupted. I was a big fan of the show. I even had an autographed Conan O’Brien picture hanging in my room in college. “Um, yeah.” he replied. “When?” “Er, last year.” “Who were the other guests?” It was an innocent question hoping he would later tell me all about it and bond an old veteran comic with an up and coming star. It never occurred to me that maybe he was LYING about his credits and I was pretty much calling him on it in front of a girl he was trying to nail. “Just say it, all right!” He slammed his drink down and stormed away. That night was an awkward night of comedy and probably shaped the next few years of my life. The audience was nice, but I don’t think they had ever seen a South Asian guy, especially one doing comedy. I remember opening up with, “Hey guys, I’m not a comic, I work at the gas station across the street and they asked me to do some time.” I heard a guy in the front row go, “I’ve never seen him at the gas station.” I was also reprimanded later for going over my time and threatened that I would never work the Wisecracker comedy circuit again. “Promise?” I asked. They ended up cancelling the second show because nobody showed up. When I finally got back to NY, after all expenses, I made six dollars! I was rich!!! I’m pretty sure comedy on the road is a lot more fun that this. In fact, I know it is. But I did have a revelation that night. If I was going to be funny for a career, I had to find a medium that reached as many people as possible, and not a microphone in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Even in NY. Had to get out of there, take my shot. Take risks, no regrets. 6 dollars is great, but it'll take at least 10 for me to sellout my dreams.