Before I knew it, Saturday rolled in and, by the evening, I was on my way to the Gotham Comedy Club - one of Manhattan’s premier clubs for up and coming performers, surely, but also a tried and tested favorite venue of many stars of the show biz. Think: Seinfeld and company.
I negotiated a corner and started down the 22nd street. I was there in a hop.
As soon as I walked into Gotham's anteroom, somewhat surprisingly, I was immediately drawn into the depth and breadth of the place. The photos covering and coloring the walls of the anteroom, though leaving a bit to be desired (in terms of aesthetics), spoke volumes of Gotham’s zeitgeist, and I felt a certain, albeit as yet undefined, connectedness to the club. Yeah, you might be right to call it a transcendent experience of sorts.
Through a heavy, dark curtain, I got escorted to my table in the main performance hall filled with guests. There was a well-lighted stage elevated to just above the tables. This ensured an unobstructed visual joy to its patrons.
“Yeah, you bet ya,” I responded to the waitress’ suggestion to bring me some drink or another as I sunk in the comfy semi-rounded booth awaiting Stats to climb the stage and do the show. . .
It was a success!