A Star Was Met

As I write this, the final evening of the LA Improv Festival looms. There has been plenty of notable activity during the week, even on days when I wound up writing here about something else. Above all, it can be said that I did not fail to take advantage of the privileges extended to me as a performer. One was granted access to the green room (and its libations) on the night of the show, and I went in there and drank (within moderation).

One was also granted a 50% discount on tickets when purchased the day of the show, and I have done that. One was also allowed free admission to any show which failed to sell out, and it has been this that brought me back to the theater hosting the festival every single night. I've seen some great stuff, and have not failed even once to come across a friend who happened to be there. I'm glad for that, because I don't much like going out alone and few without the pass I have would see so many shows in a week.


Now, on the penultimate night something really interesting to me happened. I had been very interested in seeing several shows scheduled, but the designated hour snuck up on me and I missed the first of them. It featured Kevin McDonald of "Kids In The Hall" as well as Paul Brittain, lately of "Saturday Night Live". I was sorry to miss it, but trooped on down to catch the next show I'd targeted. I inquired at the box office to ensure ticket availability, bought a beer and chatted with a friend.

Just as it was time to head in for that next show, who should appear behind my friend at the bar but Paul Brittain, whose tenure on SNL was marked by some real highlights in my book, and whose Twitter feed is presently one of my favorites for its thoughtful, offbeat quality. Having had a beer, I felt at ease to approach him. Having had only one beer, I had not yet lost so much of my faculties that my willingness would betray my condition. Said I to Paul Brittain, "Not to bother you, but I think you're fantastic."

I might have chosen other words if I had been entirely without alcohol in my system and if I had felt as relaxed as I might have with a friend or someone on my own level of "the industry", and indeed I felt minor pangs of regret that I didn't express myself better, but I was content that I might have chosen words much worse or spoken them in a less comprehensible fashion. His reply of "Thanks, man" and the accompanying handshake told me I'd done fine, and I was over the moon as I went into the show.