The A train experience

My usual two daily brushes with comedy are the wannabe comedians who accost people in Time Square with, “Do you like standup comedy?” in the hopes they’ll come to one of the myriad clubs and happily pay $32 for a pair of Bud lights to make the two-drink minimum.

(When my brother and his friends came to visit, they weren’t able to avoid the solicitors. Maybe it was because by the time you’ve dodged a full block of people it’s like you’ve just finished a slalom course and your resistance is worn down. Maybe it’s because if you answer “no” to “Do you like to laugh?” it makes you feel like you’re admitting that you like to set fire to the elderly. Whatever the reason, I came out of Starbucks and we had tickets to a comedy show that night. It was actually pretty funny. We got to see Jim Gaffigan, who(m) I like. And the doorman/ticket taker did a set too, which was much better than the woman who actually abandoned her joke before she got to the punchline. (“Just forget it. It’s new material and it’s not funny yet. You’re right not to laugh.” You don’t see that on Comedy Central.) )

The other bit of humor in my day is the conductor on my morning train who calls it “the A train experience.” For some reasons it always makes people smile. Related: My new synthesizer-based group is called Kate and the A Train Experience.

But yesterday I hit the jackpot: Homeless guy standup! Forget everything you know about homelessness because apparently it’s awesome.

I got on the A train (experience) at 59th, and a man got on behind me, mumbling. Nothing out of the ordinary yet. Apparently someone said, “Here comes that guy” because the next thing I knew, he’d launched into his routine, which actually got laughs instead of fear.

Open strong: “You damn right ‘here comes that guy; you in my living room! Look, you got your feet up on my couch. I can’t sleep at night, cause all night the doors go bing-bong-bing-bong-bing-bong. You alls just jealous, you pay $1,800, $1,900 a month for your apartment and it don’t go nowhere. I pay $2 and I go all over the city.”

Be edgy with you take-my-wife-please joke (explain why you’re homeless): “She was 398 pounds! She wanted me to buy her steak all the time. Do I look like I can afford steak? So I left her and went to live here.” Yes that’s right. Homeless on account of steak.

The grand finale (leave ’em wanting more): “And when you leave, please do me a favor and take your newspapers with you. I got company coming over tonight.”