Risking cringe over binge

I was sitting on the couch yesterday, my fiancé and son both away for Easter, when I got wind that a spot was available at an English open mic here in Hamburg.

My finger hovered over the button. Then I thought, I can either sit here and binge an entire season of Love is Blind Sweden and never get those hours back, or get out there and risk public embarrassment. I hit the button.

I jumped on my bike, which has a loose chain, one gear and a dodgy brake and rode along the harbour, too nervous to appreciate it. The sting of my last set still lingered. Not only did I bomb, but on the way home, I got shat on by a bird and began questioning my life choices.

I took the stairs instead of the lift to the Skybar in a hotel. Being Easter, I thought I’d be performing for the other comics, but there was an intimate crowd. About to go on, I took my jacket off to reveal giant sweat patches under my arms.

Panic set in as I wondered whether I should call it out on stage or put my jacket back on. By the time I got up there, it was dark anyway.

I tried to listen more and say f*** less, left an entire bit out and spent far too long trying to explain what an emu was. The feedback, given where I’m at, was positive. I’ll go through the torturous process of watching it back.

Afterwards, on the way to a nearby bar with the other comics, there was a hostile altercation on the Street between two drivers. The public was gathering round, and it was getting out of hand. I noticed in that moment of chaos, the comics stayed calm.

We sat at a communal table and continued the laughter. A large part of this experience is about community. Something I have been craving. On the ride home, I was grateful I’d gotten off the couch and didn’t get shat on by a bird, though it’s considered by some cultures to be a sign of good luck.