The Tao of Wow

I say “wow” more than any person on the planet. Now, there are many ways to say wow. You could say, “wow, that’s interesting”, with a sarcastic undertone, making the person you’re talking to feel less than. You can say, “wow, yeah”, in order to keep the conversation moving along. I got places to go and things to do after all. And then there’s the “WOW”. The undeniable. The “I can’t believe what my eyes are seeing”. The “Are there really things in this world as majestic as this?”. The “How did I get so lucky?”. Knock you on your ass, “wow”.

I’m a fan of that last one. And I’m also a practitioner.

Like I said, I say “wow” more than any person in the world. It’s genuine. It’s real for me. It’s hard to explain through paper and pen, though many have made their fortunes being able to articulate it. Those people were far better writers than the man behind these particular words, but I’m adventurous, let’s give it a shot.

I lived a pretty sheltered life. Despite foster care, my pension for fighting in my youth and all my entrepreneurial endeavors, I hadn’t seen much of the world. I’d met a lot of people, but I hadn’t seen anything. There were no real vacations in my family. Not of spite but out of necessity to work. There were no adventures outside of town unless it was through the pristine lens of my Boy Scout troop. There was no real danger there, no peril, it was hygienic. Then I became an adult. More directly, I aged out of care. And THAT was when I started to see the world.

If I’m being specific, it was just before I aged out. I had a buddy who need more bodies to pay for a motel room in sunny Ocean City, Maryland. I’ve mentioned this on these pages in the past, but it bears repeating. I made lifelong friends on that trip and for the purposes of this story, I saw something that changed me forever. I saw the ocean for the first time. It spawned a thirst for travel, a need to see more.

Flash forward to today. I’m finishing up a 100-hour road trip. I’m on hour 70 right now. I’m passing Barstow, California, leaving Los Angeles where I had some experiences for the ages. I catch some static because I prefer driving to flying. Prefer driving through the flyover towns. Prefer byways to highways and grungy motels to the swank hotel rooms I’m occasionally offered. These trips can sometimes be a bit costlier than a trip by plane but they afford me something a less expensive trip by flight can’t give me; the sights.

Like the Sierra mountains I’m seeing fly pass my window in this desert landscape. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m from the land of mountains covered in trees, wonderful evergreens. These mountains are dotted with little bushes. Gives a completely different impression. I’m a fan of these landscape changes. I stay cooped up in the office nearly all year. These trips fill the lungs with an air of hope. Maybe it’s a goal? Whatever it is, the reward is pretty great. My friends (all 4 of them) like to joke about the extremes in my personality. All year, no personal interaction, then, BOOM, a cross country trip where I find myself surrounded by people. My social woes since starting the magazine are well documented. But I fight through my anxieties in the hopes I’ll see or experience something new.

This trip was a doozy and I’ll try to burn through it as fast as I can. I’ll be writing articles about nearly everything I’m about to mention. So, details will be forthcoming. It’s not really my style, but let’s call this column a teaser.

We’ll start at the start (isn’t that the most arrogant thing a writer can do? I mean, why would we start anywhere else? Anyway.) I hit the road early, we’re talking three in the morning early…it’s me, I was to leave at three, left closer to four. My first stop was a property for sale outside of Pittsburgh. No, no, I don’t have “buy property” money, hell, for this trip I barely had gas money. I was there representing a group called SAFE, whose goal it is, among many, to help rehabilitate victims of human trafficking. This is an issue I care about so I volunteered to look over a property to be used as a village for kids who have been trafficked. If all were to work out, I’d be using my skill of reading people, to staff the facility for the group. I spent a few hours touring the property, which would make an ideal location for such a village, said my goodbyes and hopped back in my fully intact vehicle (more on that later).

I made my way through scenic West Virginia to a small mountain town that houses a defunct West Virginia University campus. This campus has been taken over by a group called KVC. The plan? A foster kid college. Alumni becoming alumni. Interesting. Big campus. Passionate people. Could work.

It was a mad dash through Kentucky and Indiana before ending up somewhere in Missouri for the night. The next morning, I was out the door early bound for Colorado. These drives may seem mundane to an outsider, but I get a lot done. I dictate articles into my tape recorder. I listen to books, it’s the only way I can read anything non-foster care related these days. I prep future issues of the mag. I take phone calls. I pull off on occasion to see people who have been supportive of me over the years. I stopped in Kansas to see such a person. Stopped in Colorado to see another such person.

After dropping off Pennsylvanian delicacies at my father-in-law’s home in Utah, I headed for the deserts of Nevada. What I didn’t realize was there was a heat waving coming from the west coast. I dealt with it for hours as I crossed through Nevada headed southwest. I asked the GPS to take me off the highway, the monotony finally getting to me. It was 109 degrees when I left the highway. The GPS decided I could use a cooldown. It took me through the majestic El Dorado National Park, where I managed to “wow” my way through miles of gorgeous snowcapped mountains. You read that right, this PA boy found snow in California! It was around 75 degrees in those mountains. I drove through them for around 3 hours. It was slower and kind of out the way, but completely worth it. So many lakes up there. It was new to me.

I spent a few days in northern California. I saw my cousin and her daughter. I spoke to some folks from the Santa Clara County Office of Education learning about their data collection system and how it impacts foster care. Then I headed to sunny Los Angeles where I had been invited by TCA The Corporate Advocates to speak at a fundraising event. I got to my motel room around 4 in the afternoon. I settled in and checked my email. DAVID SPADE AT THE COMEDY STORE!!!!!

The Comedy Store is a venue I know nearly everything about. When I say I know nearly everything, I’m being modest. I know EVERYTHING about the comedy store. It was on my itinerary to catch a show there. I intended on being there Friday night, when I thought I’d have the best chance of a David Spade pop in. That’s an unannounced performance. I knew he was gearing up for a special and when comedians do that, they head to the Store to put in work. But here it was, Wednesday and my email said Spade was a few hours away from taking the stage.

The next few hours are a blur. I called my wife to order my tickets. Not doing that on motel internet. Then I got in my car and negotiated California highways and traffic. I could have wept as I made my way up Sunset Avenue, the Strip! I know everything about the Strip. From the Viper Room and River Phoenix to The Whiskey where The Doors played. The CNN building. Amoeba record store. The list goes on. And then there it was. The nondescript black building. The giant white marquee. The outdoor bar. The line down the street. The apartment building where the comedians lived. The hill that leads to parking and a shack where down on their luck legends would live their last days. The back lot where Sam Kinison would lose his mind. The front door where Marc Maron and others worked for stage time. The halls lined with photos of famous residents of this comedy Mecca. Pryor walked these halls. The Main Room where the best of the best show their wares. I got lucky, I was just off stage to the right of the microphone.

What followed was the night of my life. I saw at least 7 comedians with Netflix specials. Check out this list; First was up and comer Jay Larson. Then 73-year-old legend of the Store Argus Hamilton. He dated owner Mitzie Shore, Pauly Shore’s Mom, back in the day. After that, was a string of superstars that I couldn’t dream of getting to see live. Iliza Schlesinger. Neal Brennan who co-wrote the Chappelle Show. Then my favorite SNL and movie star, David Spade. So close I could give him a high five. I have a unique loud laugh. That, combined with my Chris Farley shirt, definitely caught his attention. Nearly all the headliners started to play to me! They worked to get my big laugh. It was amazing. After Spade, my favorite podcaster and one of my favorite comedians, Marc Maron destroyed the crowd. Out of nowhere Ali Wong took the stage. Then Erik Griffin from Workaholics. And then Jimmy Carr, who never plays in US clubs wowed the audience. I stayed as others left, satisfied with what they saw. Young comedians Brent Morin, Chris Porter, Tony Baker and Eleanor Kerrigan kept me laughing before Brody Stevens made my night. Stevens is a frantic performer. In the vane of Robin Williams, Jim Carey or early Dane Cook, Brody is all over the place. A lot of crowd work. He needed an outlet to charge his phone, there was one by me, I offered to plug it in. What followed was my taping of his act for his social media, a plug for the magazine and a two-minute riff on foster care. I was in heaven. Then the show ended and it got better!

Through interactions with the staff, it came to light my affinity for the Comedy Store. I was offered a tour! I walked the halls and back entrances Pryor walked. Saw the stairs where he would sit before going on. They showed me the Belly and Original Rooms. Took me to the comedian green room/outdoor area. I got to touch the bullet holes Kinison made when he had one of his infamous tantrums. I asked Brody for an autograph but had nothing for him to sign. They gave me the night’s LINEUP for him to sign! They gave me a cup they don’t sell anymore and a t-shirt with the building on it. WHAT A NIGHT.

I took that confidence to the next day’s gala event and I made the crowd laugh enough times that I felt like a comedian.

I left California feeling great about life and decided to stop in Lincoln, Nebraska to see my good friend Leigh from the Foster Care Closet. It was late, like me she’s a late nighter. So we thought a midnight diner stop would be a great visit. On my way, a trucker nipped my bumper. When I realized my bumper was following me, hanging on by a bolt, I pulled over. An hour later, after a talk with a State Trooper and my bumper in my backseat, I joined Leigh at the diner.

I drove 30 hours from there. Stopped at rest areas for little hour naps. I walked in my door, broke, tired and sans a bumper. But who can be mad? I saw all my favorite comedians live, talked to a bunch of folks working in foster care and told jokes to a room full of foster care. And still managed to get the mag out in time.

WOW what a month!

Enjoy the issue.