A Tough Act
I’m a stand-up comedian in New York City. I’m not famous, so it’s tough sometimes to coach myself into believing in my own dreams.
I live near the Essex-Delancey subway stop in lower Manhattan. One day, I was on my way home. I was coming out of the subway stop. I walked through the subway turnstile to exit. It was then, on the other side of the turnstile, where a homeless man said to me, “You gotta swipe?”. Meaning, do you have an extra entrance ticket to get through the turnstile into the subway? And I did have an extra entrance ticket, as I had an unlimited ticket, and I was going home. So I didn’t care that my card would lock me out from swiping again in the short term after swiping this homeless man through the turnstile. So I immediately swiped said turnstile for this homeless man. And as soon as I did that, the homeless man got a sad look in his eyes. Then in one move, this homeless man took off all of his clothes. He stripped down to his johnson and butthole. And this homeless man then walked through the turnstile, turned around, walked back through the turnstile, put his clothes back on, turned to me, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Thank you.”
And at that moment, I realized, thank God I have stand-up comedy. Thank God! Because I have demons in my head that tell me to go out every night and tell jokes on stages to strangers. And I begrudgingly follow these stand-up demons. But the demons could be so much worse. The demons could demand I perform a nude act at the Essex-Delancey stop in lower Manhattan.
My family resents that I do stand-up comedy. I wanna take them to the Essex-Delancey stop and have them witness a man who has a much harder act than mine. Maybe they would then emotionally support my dreams.