I Don't Remember

I Don't Remember                  5397  (1447)

Thursday, August 17, 2006-6:05 P.M.

Good afternoon from Palm Bay, Florida, just down the road from Melbourne on the beautiful Atlantic coast.  The great Florida summer tour continues, with bad news on the comedy front this week; my return trip to New York, which would be taking me through three different North Carolina cities, has been canceled.  That leaves me with a dead drive from Alabama to Rochester, New York.  I've been beating the drums to find work between here and home, but with only a couple of weeks to prepare, the prospects are dim.  My good buddy, R. Bruce, who lives in Fredericksburg, Virginia, has offered the hospitality of his home to me and my family, which would offer a welcome respite on our drive home without having to dig into my pocket for a hotel, so I'm thankful for that.  I met Bruce several years ago on a Keith Gisser run through Pennsylvania and Ohio as I accompanied my comedy buddy Ray Salah on the jaunt, and we've been friends ever since.  Bruce is the kind of friend that I can go a year without seeing, and still be able to pick right up where we left off when I see him again.  He's a great comic and a talented musician, and he's got stories galore.

Last night I worked in Sebring, Florida, just a couple of hours south of where my dad lives.  The gig was in the Four Points Sheraton, probably the nicest hotel I'll get to stay in this month, and the show was good, but didn't go off as planned.

The itinerary said the show was at 8:00, but Reinhard, the general manager of the hotel, informed me that the show was actually at 8:30, which gave me a little extra time to get situated.  Pam and Harmony and I ate dinner at a sketchy Chinese Buffet restaurant (our piggish dining companions at the next table over couldn't control their infant, about Harmony's age, and the tot pushed a cup of tea off the table, showering Pam and Harmony in cold Chinese Tea...and without an acknowledgement of regret, or an acknowledgement at all, which I thought was crass).

I arrived at the lobby bar at 8:00 P.M., and at that time, the headliner had not been heard from.  I happened to know the comic, and had their number in my cell phone.  I called, got the voice mail, and asked them if they were en route, or had forgotten the show, or what.  I got a call back and was informed that they were just getting on the road, and wouldn't be arriving until after 10:00 P.M.  "If the show is at 8:30, and I'm doing 35 minutes, then what good is arriving at 10 o'clock going to do?" I wondered.  The management, in their wisdom, decided to start the show at 8:45, and asked me to stretch.  The crowd was very elderly, as you would imagine a Florida audience would be, and I was requested to work clean.  I pulled every trick in the book and capped out at 55 minutes, closing at 9:40.  The host, a radio D.J., informed the crowd that the headliner wasn't around yet, but would be coming soon, and the old folks started heading for the door in droves; it looked like Bingo at the VFW had just let out.

The headliner (a friend of mine, mind you) arrived at 10:15, and only about a third of the house still remained.  I retired to my room and collapsed right away; I was pretty much emotionally drained.  The hotel paid me by check in a big white envelope marked "Thank You" and I thought for a second that there might be a little bonus money in there for the effort, but the only thing that was in there was a check for the contractually agreed upon amount.  To make matters even more disappointing, they wouldn't cash the check at the hotel, I had to run into town this morning and find the bank it was drawn upon, and then provide them with I.D., a Florida mailing address (I used my Dad's), and then get back on the road going the other way.

Tonight, I'll be working with headliner Dobie Maxwell out of Chicago, and he's a good buddy that I've been through the trenches with several times.  Last time we worked together was January up in Battle Creek, Michigan, so it's interesting to be working with him in Florida.  I have no idea who I get to work with this weekend in Panama City and Fort Walton Beach, but I'm sure it will be a good time.

Hope your summer is going well, and I'll send postcards if I find any.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY