Albanians in the Audience

“I’m Italian,” I said. It's the first line of a bit I have about being Italian. Living and performing in NYC, there being a lot of Italians in NYC, and Italians being a vociferous people, that line often gets some sort of response.

“Woo!”

I couldn’t see the source of the woo, but I could tell it was a woman and that it came from my right. I looked in her general direction. “Are you Italian?”

“Close.”

“Close?” It was an honest question to an odd answer. I paused to let the audience laugh. That’s one of my favorite things about stand-up, that, as much as I think I can predict when they’ll laugh and what they’ll laugh at, there’s always an element of chance and surprise, I pulled out of the bit to play with her. “Like…Greek?”

“Albanian.”

“Oh sure, geographically close,” I said. “And culturally close well?”

“Similar.”

“Similar,” I said, mimicking her Adriatic accent. Normally, you wouldn’t make fun of someone’s accent whom you just met, but a comedy club isn’t normal. There’s an implied “I’m kidding” to everything we say. The only reason this whole room exists is because we all collectively agree that we’re gonna laugh. More importantly, she laughed, which gave me permission to continue having fun with her throughout the rest of the set.

I came back to her a few times, using her as a partner for comedic condescension. And it worked. Afterward, speaking Italian, she told me she enjoyed the show, but that next time I owe her a bit or two in her Italian. I think that’s what she said. That, or she was casting a spell.