Last night, I got the awesome privilege to attend the party for the opening night of Mike Birbiglia's one man show, Sleepwalk with Me. I was more excited last night than I was for the night I lost "it." And by "it," I am obviously referring to the night I became a man and lost my leg braces.
I arrived at the Amsterdam Billiards Club about twenty minutes early. I sunk down into a large velvet couch, drinking my lonely Heineken. As soon as I could say, "drinking alone," A cavalcade of party-goers marched in, with Nathan Lane, Sleepwalk with Me producer and bona fide Broadway star, leading the charge into the land of delicious fancy pizzas and free booze.
So many funny and amazing people showed up, including Eugene Mirman, Demetri Martin, John Oliver and Matthew Broderick. I instantly became rigid with nerves (I was rigid in more ways than one- ba dum psh!) being around so many people I admire and respect. Fortunately, I was able to look deep inside myself and find my inner courage.
After the jump, pictures of my inner courage as well as a photo-essay of the rest of the night.
I was first able to corner and accost John Oliver, who made the fatal mistake of not talking to anyone for about twenty seconds before I jumped in. He was incredibly nice and gracious and made me feel relaxed in asking him to take the dumbest picture he will ever take, but the best MySpace picture I had taken up to that point.
They were both so nice. I apologized for my silly request, but they were amazingly cool about it. I shook their hands and away I went to continue my night.
I considered asking Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane to take part in my hunt for the bestest MySpace picture ever, but I thought better. On a scale of one to ten, Nathan Lane is way more important than me. Hell, the free pizza was more important than me.
As for Matthew Broderick? The man was Ferris Bueller for Christ's sakes! That's like asking President-elect Barack Obama to lick my nutsack.
As soon as the "professional" photographers started asking for their pictures, I was able to piggyback and snap my own over their shoulders, so I did get some pictures of Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane posing with Mike Birbiglia.
Look at how cool Nathan Lane looks with his drink. I guess that's why they call him Nathan Lane and not Nathan Lame (I'm sorry!).
Before I left to catch the last train back to Long Island, I wanted to make my way through the sea of photographers and journalists who crowded Mike Birbiglia to ask him for my own MySpace picture. I finally broke through, and was ready to take the picture with his lovely wife, Jen Stein, as well as Eugene Mirman (guess he hadn't had enough of my amazing coolness). Right then, as I hovered the tiny camera away from our faces, someone grabbed it from my hand and decided to take this atrocity…
In all seriousness, the person who took the camera away from me was very kind and had the best intentions at heart. And you know what? The people in this picture are so amazing and great, I think, despite it not having the normal attributes of a myspace picture, I will christen this photograph…
MY NEW MYSPACE PICTURE!
My mission complete, my night nearly over, I threw my backpack over my shoulder and retreated back into the night, thanking God for the wonderful fun I enjoyed, praying my hangover would not be too bad in the morning (I needed a constant flow of "inner courage" if you know what I mean).