Surreal Life

There's this big poster that hangs by the box office at The Theatre. It's pictures of the greats with some cheesy line like, "If you had taken class in 1990, these would have been your classmates!" It's a ploy for the suburban audiences to sign up for a level A Saturday morning class, but it's something that circulates around The Program.

A-Ro and I have fresh-squeezed orange juice brunch at the French bakery around the corner before her class on a Sunday. We were in an ensemble this August, and we'll probably know each other forever. I saw her sketch show a couple weeks ago, and she mine. We discuss, we question, we dream, and at some point we say, "It could be you on those posters."

I had an almond croissant.

Last night the cohort had a performance at the long theatre on top of the building. It was actually a great show. They can tend to be stiff and accidentally competitive. Last night was fun. My gang took the stage by dancing in a train into the spotlight. We played diamond salespeople who had an affinity for coal and hormone-crazed teens. The entire Program went out together--a first.

We went to this particular bar that is cash only and is decorated with a lot of lewd paintings. Aidy Bryant was in Chicago a month ago and Instagrammed from that bar. I recognized it instantly. It's a staple of comedy students. That SNL40 bonanza was on as we all mixed and milled and dissected our shows. We couldn't hear it, but we saw those people. Sandler, Wiig, Fallon, on and on. Half of the people so far away in NYC had sat where we all sat in the same grubby ale house. It was too surreal, and we all felt it. We took a group picture that was so unwieldy, the rest of the patrons watched us. Someone started the bit of congratulating each other on the shot, so we all seriously shook hands and nodded as if someone had just won the Nobel Prize. One day that picture will mean something. We just don't know for who.

Hilarious bit by Pinker: accidentally drinking a candle.