(From February 2016)

At long last, my public debut had arrived. We would be performing at Timothy’s Bar, a little subterranean club down the steps from the Quarrier Diner in Charleston.

We were part of the featured entertainment for the West Virginia International Film Festival’s Oscar party, which seemed like a much bigger responsibility than it actually was.

As it turned out, Improv 304’s performance was really only a small item on the expansive list of activities. There would be games, including red carpet bingo and team trivia. They had door prizes to give away, and t-shirts to sell.

Also, it seemed like there might be a quick speech or two –plus there was an actual ceremony going on that people wanted to see.

People wanted to know: Would Leonardo DiCaprio finally win his “Best Actor” Oscar? What was Chris Rock going to say about just how white the Academy Awards were –again?

There was a lot going on, most of it to be squeezed in between commercials breaks.

Nobody knew how long those would be exactly, but we all sort of guessed two or three minutes at most.

The film festival asked us to do our games at around 9:30 and 10:30.

It wasn’t much time, but there weren’t that many of us available –just Jim-Bob Williams, David Lomely, Jack Mallah, Janet, and me.

Two minutes seemed fine to me. Less time was good, as far as I was concerned.

By 7 p.m. the group had all arrived. We settled in at a table by the big screen, near the front door. Drinks were swilled and pretty much everybody picked at the spread laid out by Timothy’s for people.

I didn’t touch so much as a grape or a carrot stick.

Everybody gets nervous differently. Adam King of the No Pants Players said he used to throw up outside before a show. That was years ago. Now, after years of performances, he says he only dry heaves.

I don’t get sick, but my stomach was knotted tightly, perhaps in hopes of strangling the flock of butterflies flittering around.

Yet, I felt oddly calm, mostly because I was doing a pretty good job of not thinking about anything. Watching the pre-Oscar coverage, one of the most banal piece of television ever created, did wonders toward emptying my head of anything approaching an intelligent thought.

And hey, it was a bar.

Everybody else was drinking, so I got a beer, nursed it for an hour before our first set while muttering catty comments about how many superheroes seemed to be up for best supporting actor this year.

I hung out toward the back, while the rest of my improv group joined in for team trivia under the banner of “Side Boob.”

It was almost a relief when it came time for us to do a quick warm-up and get about the business of being funny.

The first game we played was done with cards. Dave Lomely and I were each given two random cards from a deck full of movie quotes, neither of which we looked at.

Our game was to act out a scene, and then when the mood struck, we were supposed to pull out a card, and read the quote as if it was part of our dialog.

The quotes didn’t make any sense to the scene, but that didn’t matter.

Jim-Bob Williams, our emcee, asked the crowd for a scene. Maybe because they were bored or didn’t get what we were doing, someone yelled out, “You’re in a bar,” which was exactly where we were.

We just went with it.

Dave started the scene off (thankfully). I reacted. After a couple of exchanges, we each pulled our cards for lines, and delivered them.

I don’t remember exactly what I said –something from “Jaws” maybe? I don’t really remember what Dave said –“Dirty Dancing?” I just remember doing the scene. I’m pretty sure people laughed, but I don’t know why.

To be honest, it was only when people laughed that I even really noticed they were there.

I never looked out at the crowd during our scene. I kept my eyes on Dave’s face the entire time –and then it was just done.

We smiled at the audience, walked away, and sat down very quickly.

I felt pretty good about it, even though I don’t know for sure what I did.

The second bit was pretty much the same. We rushed through a scene. A few people laughed, I think. There was a problem with the sound, though, but we got through, sat down, and we were done.

Chris Rock, I thought, was pretty funny. Leonardo DiCaprio finally won his Oscar, and everybody at the Oscars ate Girl Scout cookies or at least bought them from Rock’s daughters.

Dave Lomely won the door prize. Side Boob won team trivia, and we divvied up the loot. Each of us got a ticket to one of the films at the spring film festival.

Jim-Bob said he had to leave early.

“I have to be on the road at 5 tomorrow,” he said. “But we wanted to say thanks.”

The group got me a t-shirt. I could pick it up on my way out.

I tried to thank them all again for hosting me, teaching me, and being very patient as I blundered my way through improv comedy.

They told me again I could still come around if I wanted. I was always welcome to return to the basement of Taylor Books, preferably during business hours.

It was good to have someplace to go Tuesday nights. It was nice to make friends and find a few people to just goof off with.

I don’t know if the whole month made me a little braver or raised my self esteem, but I did get a note from one of my Vegan potluck friends. They were planning a Meatless Monday event at Bluegrass Kitchen and he wanted to know if I’d be interested in giving stand-up a shot.

I told him, “maybe.”