On my way to work every day I pass a little comedy club. It sticks out on the highway and the back road.

I love laughter and supporting anyone who has the gift of creating it. I mean my youngest is named Carlin for a reason. So I see this place so often I’ve been dying to go. Ever since we moved to the area 3 years ago.

Thanks to the excitingly boring 2020 covid measures, and herds of people fleeing from public spaces, the club couldn’t operate for a while. My state wasn’t locked down, but people had too much to worry about than laugh, I guess. I mean I had never been, but the idea of going was suddenly ripped away.

Thankfully, this little joint is re-opened and cool about wearing masks or choosing not to. Which is good for people like me who often laugh so much I risk passing out under normal circumstances. If I had to go in wearing a mask they’d need a doctor on hand. So tonight is the first open mic in ages. I’m so hungry for live entertainment that I don’t care who gets up there, the hubs and I are going.

Tickets are bought. The kids are set to be looked after.

And here comes the predictable plot twist, I have a specific bucket list desire. Something I’ve wished to try out for years.

I am dying to get up there and be booed offstage.

My husband thinks I’m insane. But I’m serious. Just once, I want to pretend to be a comedian and bomb horridly. It’s an easy request, I’m sure. One that my husband has tried a few times himself, and apparently failed at (he’s too funny).

But I was a singer for most of my life. I got standing ovations and support from all kinds of people. It was great. I loved it. The rush of being onstage doing what you love is unlike anything else on this planet. I miss it. Sharing music with others is magic, but I have my own little stage at home with the kids and that’s where I truly belong.

So there’s this weird part of me that wants to see what it’s like on the other side. Every time I got under the lights and wooed a crowd, there was always someone on the sidelines telling me they wish they could do it like I did.

But deep down, I wondered what it was like to be them. To me singing was about connecting. I wondered why someone without the training, talent, and ability would want the anxiety that always came just before I set foot center stage.

Maybe that’s where this desire comes from, IDK.

Whatever it is, it’s there. I love to laugh, but kindling it… that’s a feat for the pros. Getting booed offstage sounds more hilarious to me. It’s the best self-deprecating humor. As sad as it might be to others, I could laugh at that for years.

Maybe, just maybe, the people at Backdoor Comedy in little O’Fallon Missouri can make that a reality.