A DAY OF BLISS, THEN REALITY A WEEK LATER

Published by Rick on Tagged Uncategorized

On this date 20 years ago, I said “I do” for the third and very likely final time unless someone can convince me that being married strategically helps me in any way. I certainly entered into this last one with the attitude of “Well this is the final piece of the puzzle,” as I’d wanted to move to England anyway, so being married to someone seemed the best way to make the move happen. As I’ve mentioned many times, being married doesn’t create the legal springboard that we once thought it would. Still, it was a wonderful day in 2004, nice enough that I could overlook it being one of the most poorly run weddings I’d ever seen. All they had to do was play one song on a CD player once the ceremony was done, but no one responded until I said “And now music plays!” The setting was the Eastbury Manor House in Barking, a building which has stood since the 16th Century, and the reception at a funky utility facility in Dagenham that was razed about three years later. None of that really mattered, as I was now married to an English woman and could spend the rest of my days in UK.

We had no time for a honeymoon, as I had work booked up pretty solidly right up to New Years. We stayed one night at a Sherlock Holmes themed hotel on Baker Street in London, then back to normal, sort of. My next gig wasn’t until the following Friday (the wedding was on a Saturday), so I was sufficiently rested and ready to rock and roll. But the audience at Up The Creek in Maidstone, Kent had other ideas! They wanted a string of dick jokes, or god knows what, just not what I had to offer. It only took about five minutes before audience members started expressing their displeasure.

I remember opening with the announcement that I had just gotten married, which got significant applause, but it went downhill from there. After the first few bits got fair to middling response, I was handed the old chestnut “Tell a joke.” I do have a couple favourite jokes that I throw in from time to time, but I sensed from this crowd that any joke with more than 10 words was going to be beyond comprehension. Still I gave one of them a go and got some laughs but definitely not what the joke would normally generate. The hole was definitely being dug and it was just waiting for me to fall in it.

I’ve seen it happen before when a comic is dying onstage, that the audience at their most sinister would applaud in unison to drown out anything the comic has to say. It had never happened to me before, and it hasn’t happened to me since, but there it was on Friday the 26th of November, 2004. In between the rhythmic applause was the usual “Can’t wait til the comedy starts” or “You’re shit” or “Go back to America” or the blunt “Fuck off Yank.” I got the message and didn’t even bother taking requests because I knew what the requests would be. I moved ahead to my final bit, and “thanked” the crowd with the salutation “You’ve been a lovely audience minus about 15 or 20.”

I was the first act up that night, and couldn’t imagine how things would go for the rest of the comics on the bill, but I sure as heck wasn’t going to stick around to find out. The manager of the venue was waiting for me just as I got off stage with cash in an envelope for me and he also guided me to a side exit so I wouldn’t have to encounter any of my loving public. Obviously this had happened several times at this venue, just from the manager’s “Well here we go again” attitude. He was quite friendly and understanding about it. A shame because I had worked one of the other Up The Creek venues in Greenwich, South London, several times and always did really well there. Needless to say, I was never booked at the Maidstone venue again, thank god for small pleasures.

I did get one bit of consolation as I was in front of the venue and heading back to my car. Two people were standing outside having a cigarette, and knowing myself at that time, I probably was too (I didn’t quit for good until 2010). One of them said “It’s a shame these people refused to recognise how talented you are.” I thanked them for their words, saying how sad it is that a vocal minority can spoil it for the majority. I drove back home to Dagenham pretty much stripped of whatever bliss being a newlywed could offer. At least by going home I knew there was two people there that loved me (I was now not only a husband but a stepdad).

Then again, the wedded bliss only lasted about a year, though we soldiered on for four years and three months. It was an acrimonious breakup, but in retrospect, what made the marriage last as long as it did had to do with me being gone most nights while the wife worked a day job. It took us longer to get tired of each other because we hardly saw each other, so we savoured the time we actually were together. We’re friends now, but it’s been over 15 years since the breakup, and I don’t believe in holding grudges, except maybe towards Trump supporters. I’ve been in a happy relationship for the last 9 1/2 years. Thanksgiving is coming up next week, and though I don’t celebrate it anymore, I’m very thankful for having her in my life to keep things interesting.

November 20th, 2024



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