Gilbert Gottfried At Caroline's Tonight
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Saw Gilbert Gottfried's standup at Caroline's tonight with married friends Kim and JK and their friend Joe.
As we approach the doorman I notice JK is holding a $20 bill along with our numbered ticket. He's planning to bribe our way in early and with better seats. I ask him, "Does this work? Do people actually do this anymore?" "I don't know", JK says, "I've never tried it before." I tell him he's my hero.
The doorman stops us because the number on our ticket is too high. JK says, "Is there any way we can get in here right now?" "No", says the doorman. JK says "There's no way we can get in here right now and get a better table?" "No", the doorman says. "There's no way we can get in here right now?", JK intones. Excruciating.
I don't know JK all that well but there's always been an easy connection between us. Certainly Kim is the grounding wire for that connection. Some time has passed since she and I, with no small affection, weathered her twenties together (my early thirties) in a friendship full of dark humor and dark psychological alleys. Looking back, I think there was a kind of unspoken assumption that if we could sort her out we would be accomplishing something bigger than just a couple of people talking in Washington Square Park. We didn't get very far.
But I became her accomplice in the David Mamet sense--by listening. And we established a bond which has weathered even long periods of no communication (mostly my fault). JK knows me almost exclusively through stories of me and Kim from those chaotic--and fun--days nearly two decades ago. The comfort level, the trust, between JK and me is an especially wonderful feeling, coming as it does through the conduit of Kim's memories spoken within their marriage.
Maybe this is saying more about me, but also in this little doorman scenario I flash on the Wisconsin upbringing JK and I share. I once felt the need to shave in a truckstop mensroom just because, like Everest, that living cliche was there. By my own goofy calculus, JK is taking a similar psychic flyer.
I have a little running commentary about how Kim's a true New Yorker, and grew up a rich kid. She knows how to get things done. Whereas JK and I are weighed down by Wisconsin-ness, and all that entails. There's an implicit test of menschness when dealing with a doorman. Of course this has nothing to do with JK's real competence. What a shame he seems headed for no outcome at all. His offbeat and inspired gesture is falling in the woods with no one to hear it. Shouldn't the doorman at least make off with the money while delivering no improvement in our entertainment situation and robbing us like huckleberries?
FINALLY the doorman sees the twenty dollar bill. He says, "You want to get in here right now?" JK says "Yeah" and hands him the twenty. JK is my hero. "You want to get in here right now?" the doorman says. "See if you can get us a good table" JK says. Did I mention JK is my hero?The doorman calls over a waiter, or host, to escort us to a table. Just then Kim jumps into the arms of Gilbert Gottfried's wife, who we're informed has reserved us a great table in advance. Kim tells her "I wasn't sure you'd gotten my email."
I was having a great time already. A really great time.
And Gilbert Gottfried's lunacy advanced the night into the sublime. The unforgettable bit for me was this: Gilbert describes checking into a motel with suicidal intensions. Jesus arrives in a vision to inspire him to live onward. Heading out the door, Jesus offers to make a gesture as long as he's stopped by earth, like maybe ending all wars. Gilbert says, no, go on, get outta here. But then begs Jesus, cajole's him, nags him, to take a piece of cake with him.
