That time I did impromptu standup in Asheville

I never intended to perform at the comedy night. A few hours earlier, I’d been lying in bed, feeling tired and headachey and slightly sorry for myself.

But the night was free and right around the corner; I thought I’d go and see how different American comedy was.

After about four acts had been on, I started thinking that maybe I could do it. That maybe there would never be a better time to try it; I didn’t know anyone there, and I was leaving in the morning.

I bought a glass of wine to stop the shaking and jotted a few notes down.

Then, all of a sudden, I was being introduced as a comic and welcomed to the stage. I talked about some mildly funny things that had happened on my trip to the states.  I remember being proud that my voice sounded normal. I filled my time, people laughed. There was some clapping.

Stand up comedy is one of those things I always wanted to do, but thought I would always be too scared to. I was scared, but I tried not to think about it.

Straight after my set (get me, I have sets now), a kindly woman from Jersey bought me a drink. I’m not sure if it was out of pity,  or if she just fancied me, but I was glad of the support regardless.

I don’t think I was terrible. For something thought up on the spot, I think I did alright.

Afterwards, I felt so alive,  my cheeks still pink from the embarrassment of talking in front of a (dwindling) crowd. It’s the same feeling that dragged me up all the way to Macchu Pichu, that saw me mountain bike down The Most Dangerous Road in the World. I wasn’t necessarily well equipped for any of these things, but I did them anyway, because I assumed that I could.