Well, we’ve made it. Death By Improv is at the North Carolina Comedy Arts Festival. Figured I’d let our legion of fans know what we’re up to so far.
Our day began at the ass-crack of dawn, when I drove around scenic Central Jersey to pick up Hochman, Ron, and Michelle. From there it was on to the Turnpike and 95 toward North Carolina. We made really good time up through Washington, despite being hung up in DC for a few minutes by a motorcycle cop with a sidecar who pulled a guy over into the left lane. I’d love to see a motorcycle cop who arrested someone driving off with their perp in the sidecar. I’d rob a liquor store just to be in that ride. Also, Ron thinks he saw a guy getting ready to jump from an overpass. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any Third Eye Blind on my iPod.
After a stop at a Northern Virginia Wendy’s, we stopped for gas, where Michelle was unusually excited at the prospect of pumping our own gas. Also, I was briefly mystified by being out of New Jersey, where I can actually turn left, but I was naturally inclined to turn right on red. We drove for another few hours until I had to pee, and we stopped at a gas station with what may have been the smelliest restroom I’ve ever been in. It smelled like they had urine scented air fresheners. After another couple hours, Michelle had to go, where she accosted a crack ho in a Burger King bathroom. Once back on the road, we were less than an hour from our hotel, and once in North Carolina we learned from Ron that the state bird of North Carolina is the horse.
After checking into the hotel, we ventured down to Carrboro, where the festival proper is being held. We stopped for dinner at a co-op supermarket, where I ate like a hippie, chowing down on couscous and tabouli. Once we finished, we went to the DSI Comedy Theater, where we caught the first two shows of the festival. The first two were awesome, but why listen to me prattle on about it when you can read Hochman’s write up off it at the Improv Kerouac blog my mashing the link to it on this very page.
We were all pretty wiped out after the shows, and I was slightly buzzed from the Guinness and PBRs. We returned to the hotel, where, despite threatening it, Ron did not take any photographs of Michelle in her sleep. However, I saw something incredible thanks to sharing a room with Ron. He slept in his jeans, then in the morning woke up about 10, took his jeans off, got back in bed, then got up 20 minutes later and put them back on. The man is either a certified genius or an authentic wacko.
Next morning, we were all well rested, and despite Michelle’s nightmares, I was not eaten by a dinosaur. Since we’re all lazy SOBs we were too late for breakfast, but we had lunch at a nice little restaurant called the Southern Rail, which is made of old rail cars. I had some tasty chili con carne and we split the loaded fries, and I was mystified and beguiled by bottled Pabst Blue Ribbon. After lunch, we explored Chapel Hill for a bit, where Ron wanted to smush the cashier at a coffee house and I spilled lemonade all over the floor of said coffee house.
After that, it was back to the car for a trip back to the hotel, where we just brutally mocked any passersby. I apologize of any of you heard it. It was quite mean, but quite hilarious. Right now, we’re relaxing at the hotel and RON NEEDS TO TURN OFF GLENN BECK RIGHT NOW.and waiting on Tim, Eric, and Brown to arrive, but they’re currently stuck in the gulag known as DC Traffic.
Anyway, that’s our story up until now. I’ll keep you all posted on our continued adventures. Stay tuned, true believers.