Why Stand-Up Comedy and a Good Drink Belong Together (Ask Anyone Who's Been to a Show)
Thirty years of New York comedy shows taught me exactly why stand-up comedy and a good drink belong together. It has nothing to do with getting loose.
Lou started taking me to comedy clubs when we were still figuring out if we were going to last. Caroline's. The Comedy Cellar. A few places in Hell's Kitchen that have since become something else, as everything in this neighborhood eventually does. We'd get there early, get a table, order something. That was before I understood what the drink was actually doing.
It's not that alcohol makes things funnier. That's the amateur theory.
The Room Has to Be Ready Before the Comedian Walks Out
A comedy show without a drink in your hand is like a dinner party where nobody's relaxed yet. Everyone's sitting up too straight. The comedian comes out, says the first thing, and you can feel the audience doing the math: is this funny? Should I laugh? What if I'm the only one?
The drink is the signal. Not to your brain, to your body. Sit down. You're done. Whatever is waiting outside this room can wait forty-five more minutes. You ordered something, you're here, let the thing work.
I've watched this happen in real time. Lou and I used to get to shows early enough to watch the room fill up. You can see the shift. People come in still wearing their outside faces, commute written all over them. Then they sit, they order, someone laughs at something the opener says, and the room finds its temperature. After that it's easy.
Stand-up comedy and a good drink belong together because they're doing the same job. One from the inside, one from the outside. The comedian is trying to get your guard down. So is whatever's in your glass.
What I Actually Drink at Shows Now
I was a red wine person for years. Then I started paying attention to what I actually felt like mid-set versus after, and I made some adjustments.
I want something light enough that I'm still tracking the material but present enough that I'm not watching the clock. Lately that means something with a low ABV or sometimes nothing at all. I'm not making a statement. I'm being practical. The Herb & Lou's hibiscus has been in regular rotation lately. It's exactly what it needs to be and nothing else.
The mistake people make is thinking the drink has to be strong to do its job. It doesn't. It just has to be something you chose on purpose, that you're enjoying, that tells your nervous system: this is leisure, not a meeting.
That's why stand-up comedy and a good drink belong together. Not because you need to be impaired to find things funny. Because showing up to something requires a small ceremony of arrival, and the drink is how you tell yourself you've arrived.
The Part That Actually Makes You Laugh
The comedians I've loved over the years are good at one thing most people can't do. They say the true thing. The thing everyone in the room has been holding carefully, not saying out loud, and they just say it. The whole room laughs because someone finally did.
You can't receive that if you're still holding. You have to have put something down first.
Lou figured this out before I did. He always orders the moment we sit down. Doesn't look at the menu long. Gets comfortable. By the time the lights go down he's already somewhere ready to receive what's coming. After thirty-two years I do the same thing.
Stand-up comedy and a good drink belong together for the same reason the punchline needs the setup. One of them is doing the work of getting you ready. The other one gets to land.
If you're going to a show this weekend and you want something worth drinking while you wait for the comedian to get to the good part, herbandlous.com is where I'd start. That part you can figure out before you leave the house.