Neither of the last two times that I’ve been in a liquor store have I been carded. The law, as explained in the little plastic inserts over the “Take A Penny / Leave A Penny” trays, says that anyone under thirty could get carded. So I either look thirty, or look enough over twenty-one that the liquor store owners don’t care. And I know that’s not really a law; it’s just there to give the proprietors a gauzy veil of protection in case someone gets huffy over being checked. “I don’t look twenty-one to you?”
Straight Outta Second City
I recounted this to Erik V. at Serpico’s housewarming on Saturday. Talking about the flexibility of entry barriers, he mentioned a time that he and his improv troupe got turned away from a club. “No Identical Outfits,” the sign out front said. But someone talked to the bouncer and convinced them that an improv troupe would not be rolling with the nilly*, and in any case had the troupe name on their shirt for easy identification.
“I can see that causing trouble for naive college clubs,” I speculated. ” ‘We’re the Latin Kings! Gallia est omnia divisa in tres partis!’ ”
Serpico and Kim’s new place is awesome, by the way – a two bedroom in a building we looked at before moving into Union Square. They’ve done a lot with the space they have, setting aside the larger room for an office and guest BR and turning the smaller into a cozy master BR. One sectional couch and one three-seater frame the coffee table (perfect for gaming) and TV, and massive DVD shelves flank the opposite corner. Serpico showed off the kitchen island, which he’d bought and assembled the day before, with fatherly pride.
Tell Me A Story
As threatened, I told a story for Jess Sutich’s recurring ImprovBoston show, “A Night of Oral (Tradition).” Four other ImprovBoston regulars and I told stories to a house of … ten people? Maybe a dozen.
Everyone else told stories ranging from knowing chuckles to laugh-out-loud hilarity, ranging from David Mogolov’s improbable howler regarding impromptu bathroom breaks on road trips to Christina S.’s touching story of feuding cousins. My story – involving South Philadelphia strip clubs and family – did not get quite as many laughs. Well, the first part of the story did. But I played to a silent house for the last four to six minutes or so. Then again, the story didn’t really have a punchy ending or a lot of hilarious twists to it. And two people independently came up and said my story was “well told” or “well structured.” So format I have. I’m going to pick a funnier one for next month (a story where I nearly died) and see if that makes a difference. You should come see it; it’s cheap.
* By which I mean the nine-milly.