“Just take… my fucking… money,” I breathed through clenched teeth.
I was attempting to bribe my way into a sold out comedy club. Inside, one of my comedy idols was performing. Based on the uproar of laughter every 10 seconds, he was killing it.
“Ma’am, I have already told you I can not do that. I will have to ask you to leave, again. Or be escorted out, again.” The ticket bitch lady snarled back.
“I will sit on the floor, lady! I don’t even care! I just need to see him!”
“Yeah, well, next time plan ahead and don’t get here late,” she smirked. So, yes, technically she was right. I was about 45 minutes late. But that wasn’t my fault.
“For your information,” I slurred, “I was in class.” No dice. Even I could smell the alcohol on my breath.
We spent the next half hour trying side doors, getting yelled at by various security guards. Finally, my friends and I made a pact that just straight breaking and entering was necessary. Should we get caught, it’s every woman for herself. Sparing my police record the details on how, we were in got to the back stage door. Ducking behind boxes and whispering not to get caught, we realized we had no way of getting passed the door that was being guarded by security.
One thing I have always appreciated about my life, however, is that I always get what I want. And yes, I mean that in the bitchiest way possible. I weasel my way into a lot of situations that I am undeserving of, but if you don’t act like “that girl,” someone else will. And you know what? “That girl” gets all the best shit.
During what I guess must have been intermission, one of the opening performers walked out the door. I scream whispered at him to get his attention. He looked scared but that soon changed to a judgmental staring at the three girls stooped on the dirty ground. We did some back and forth on why we were hiding in the production room, how we got in there, and the broken window that we all swore was like that when we got there. Finally, we had earned his trust. Or he had taken pity on us. Either way, we were in.
He got us in, there were empty seats (immediately making me happy I had yelled at the bitch at the window) so we sat down and enjoyed the rest of the show. Within a few minutes, my snap story was littered with pictures of my idol. I was in dream land watching him perform. I laughed so hard I cried, and I drunkenly told the people around me how I was going to fuck him. The term “gilf” was thrown out several times.
At the end of the show, the group said they had a surprise.
“Can we have the blonde girl we snuck in up here please?” Asked the man who had snuck us in after turning a blind eye to our obvious criminal activity.
Fuck. Oh, fuck. I swear the old lady next to me asked “snuck in?!” not trying at all to hide her disapproval. I stood up confidently, and made the way to the stage. Passing row after row of people, all staring at me. They probably should have played some music, or continued with a few jokes, anything but the fucking silence. Once I was on stage, speaking into the mic, the break in guy told the audience “she really wanted to meet Ryan. Ryan, the magnificent gilf that he is, began to blush. He reached out his hand to introduce himself, and I attacked. You know the hugs reserved for boyfriends that you haven’t seen in a while? The big bear hugs that also involve your legs wrapped around them too? I did that. I did that to a grown ass man in front of an entire *almost* sold out comedy club. He asked me to get off of him.
We performed together, and I made him full belly laugh, twice. He made a comment on being pleasantly surprised I could hold my own (so was I, seeing as I have just a terrible sense of humor), but I explained how I thrive with attention. Oh no, you mean I have to have everyone’s undivided attention? Sounds like my kind of night. It’s the same as karaoke, I hate singing, but I’m first on the stage every single night. Bring it on, Ryan. And like, it’s been a week… Why haven’t you called?.