Sat, Nov 8 2003 - Comedy Factory Night Out (View Original Event Details)|
|Participants:||Katherine McColl, Joanne Milne, Jesse Allen, KC Yi, Maria Maranto Dickey, Sarah Martinez, Wendy Wickham, Rani Gran, Chris Gran, Tracy Ward Wright, Matthew Sommer, Colin Babb, Gwen Savage, Amy Pickwick, Mark Zawodny, stephen pheiffer, Rob Copeland, Jim Powell|
Having never been to the Comedy Factory Outlet, organizing the event was an adventure. I had previously been to a comedy club in Baltimore that was much larger. CFO (not to be confused with the shoe outlet) was impressed with our organization. Everyone had to show ID to get their wrist band. Wendy, who sprained her wrist earlier that day while on the Camp David hike confused the wrist band lady and myself when she put out her arm (Wendy, pull up your sleeve. Oh wait, it is up). Since most of us roll out of bed and throw on a hat and sweats for our hikes, it was strange for me to see some of our members decked out. Some were completely unrecognizable.
We saw 3 official acts, and the MC bantered between the performances. The MC was actually better than the first act! Funny male comedians joked about their jobs in hospitals, as policeman, and about dating (which we can all relate to at least a little bit).
After the show, the options were Baltimore Live and Fletchers, my favorite hang out. The majority of us ended up at Fletchers. Steve forgot where he parked the car, so some were later than others. I tried to get JR arrested for going in the girls bathroom to check out the Uma Therman poster. While Colin made it in and out completely unobserved by the bouncer, Jesse refused to get near the women's bathroom (smart man). Eli turned out to be a ringer pool player. Colin is a closet Elvis and Tom Jones fan. Matt started teaching me the fine art of Southern cooking secrets (Vinegar BBQ???-that'll have to be an outing in and of itself next summer). Tracy spotted Frodo from Lord of the Rings as a patron of the establishment, and I played probably the worst pool ever. Thankfully we weren't playing for money. I also learned that DD also means Designated Driver, not just a bra size.
As the group trickled down and the hour got late, we all made our way back to our cars still parked near the comedy club. Colin was the last driver, so we piled 6 people into his Sentra and unloaded before the back end of his car sparked a fire on the street.
Next time I will have directions to the "after activity" so we don't loose half the group. Sorry guys! And also, there aren't any pictures from the Comedy Factory, since they wouldn't let us take any (so you'll just have to take my word for it that it actually happened...).
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