Notes from My First Improv Showcase

AKA How to Blow Things Out of Proportion 101

FRESHMAN YEAR OF LIFE

Your (un)definitive guide to the first year after graduation

The blind (me) will be leading the blind (you, if you’ve found yourself on this substack) in a series of conversations about being adults, kind of.

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If you ever need to go on a crash diet, just book an improv class with a final performance attached. I seriously am going to sell this idea to Brides.com.

Never have I ever been less interested in eating than in the five hours before my final performance—my recital, my magnum opus, my UCB 201 Class Showcase.

I was so antsy and anxious that I couldn’t even touch a cappuccino— very unlike me—and so I subsisted on small sips of water and a vitamin gummy in the morning leading up to my 1pm show.

Yes, the show was at 1pm. This was something my mom reminded me of after my third pre-performance freak out.

At 10:30 am (T-minus 2.5 hours to show), this was our exchange:

Mom: Want to go shopping before improv?

Me: No, I’m literally so nervous, I can’t focus on anything. Maybe I need to lie down?

Mom: It’s a family and friends showcase…

Me: I know, but I haven’t performed since college and—

Mom: At 1pm.

So yes, for whatever reason, I was under the impression that I was hosting Saturday Night Live and not performing in a matinee improv showcase that was included in my class fee.

Here we are en route to my class show. I made my mom walk twenty blocks in the pouring rain because I thought walking would “get my nerves out” before the performance. On the way, my mom asked, “will there be any talent agents there?” Clearly, I had misrepresented the proportions of this event.

Alas, when I finally arrived at UCB Theatre on 14th St., and joined the other members of my class for a quick pre-show round of Zip Zap Zop and BaDaDa (don’t ask), my heart rate started to settle.

Maybe this was because I realized no one else’s mom had flown in for this (thank you Carrie!) and, in fact, the audience consisted of about six roommates, four girlfriends, and two bored UCB front desk people. I was chilling!

My mom, our friend Alan, and my friend Annie populated the entire front row, which would’ve made me nervous—however, the stagelight was so bright in my face that I couldn’t see anything except my own corneas.

For a little more background on improv before I get into the actual performance:

I took UCB 101 (basically improv for bored project managers and adults wanting to improve their public speaking) on Wednesday nights from 7-10 p.m. in the fall. It was a group of 15 of us— all very nice people— but I could barely tell you a word about the class because I spent most of my time sitting in a foldout chair, trying to figure out when to pop open my LaCroix without disturbing the skit in front of me.

I graduated to UCB 201, and chose the 3:30-6:30 p.m. timeslot on sort of a whim. It turned out to be the best decision ever because it attracted all actors, Broadway people, and comedians— essentially anyone whose life doesn’t follow a 9-5 schedule.

Thus, by the time the showcase came around, the ante was UPPED. My fellow classmates were beyond talented. They were PERFORMERS. In class, they’d throw around phrases like “voiceover work” “principal role” and “does anyone know of a remote job following a flexible schedule” like it was candy.

I made a name for myself in the class by defaulting into playing three characters:

1. Dumb Girlfriend

2. Confused Girlfriend

3. Angry Girlfriend

I don’t know how this happened, but basically someone would initiate a scene:

Classmate: Hey, what are you doing here Sarah?

And my immediate, instinctual response would be something like:

Me: I came all the way to Lowe’s Hardware, Jacob, to see if the rumors were true…. who the hell is Eileen?

When the showcase finally came, my spur-of-the-moment ideas were to play a

1. Evangelizing Spin Instructor

2. Dumb LuluLemon Employee

3. Dumb ER Doctor

To all the feminists reading this who I just gave heart attacks—my apologies.

Anyways, the show went great all in all! I had fun, my Dumb LuluLemon Employee got a few laughs, and I successfully “cut” a scene (I ran across the stage after a scene two classmates were performing went stale, signifying to the audience that the scene was over, and the next one was coming. The stakes are actually kind of high here, because if you cut too early, the performers get upset; and if you cut too late, the audience sits through a dead scene, ok I need to get off my soapbox now).

After an hour of performing, our instructor Shannon—who was in charge of music and lighting—killed the lights and started blasting rap. This meant the show was finished. The lights came back on, and I rushed over (stepped two feet off the stage) to my mom, Alan, and Annie in the front row.

“Wow! You are BRAVE!”

I was struck with deja vu because during class one day, I was in the audience while a group of my classmates performed. This guy Marc sat down next to me after his turn, and I said to him, “You were great up there!” Then, after my turn, I sat back down next to him, and he goes “How did you feel about that?”

Sooo, actually I’ll take “You are BRAVE!” as a big win, and really my three guests (to whom I am forever grateful) were the brave ones, because a 1pm-201-Improv-Friends-and-Family-Showcase can range from super fun to more painful than getting teeth pulled sans anesthesia.

Afterward, my mom, Alan, and I went for a coffee. Well, they went for coffee. I inhaled the coffee shop’s Small Bites menu with the vigor of someone who had eaten nothing but a gummy vitamin since waking up.

I asked my mom if she’d taken a picture, which apparently she hadn’t, because she thought the flash would be distracting, so I’ll leave you all with the only existing documentation of my 201 Showcase:

I assume this means Tiffany’s guests didn’t get a photo either.

Oh well—I’ll make sure someone takes one at 301.