As someone who dabbled in comedy in college (translation: I spent weeknights nights watching a group of boys do bits about minions), I have a complicated relationship with open mic nights. On the one hand, I respect the grind. On the other, it’s nearly impossible to separate myself from the secondhand cringe of watching a stranger unravel onstage while I’m just trying to enjoy my hard-earned weeknight serotonin in peace.
And yet, somehow, open mics always find you. This one started innocently enough: I was out catching up with a friend, prime booth secured, talking about nothing important. Then – like clockwork – two overly eager hosts materialized at our table with that dreaded phrase: “Hey, want to support the comics in the back?” Five minutes later, we were being herded into a dimly lit side room that smelled faintly of spilled beer, and sure enough, a guy in a flannel was already adjusting the mic to deliver his dissertation on why women don’t text back.
That’s when the usual open mic two-drink minimum goes from formality to necessity. For me, that meant ordering an ice-cold Truly Hard Seltzer. Before that, the night felt like a minefield of awkward pauses and punchlines that belonged in the Notes app. I was white-knuckling my glass, calculating escape routes, and rehearsing my “sorry, I have an early morning” excuse for when a comic inevitably called me out for leaving early. But with a chilled can in hand, things started to feel a little easier to sit through. After a few sips of Truly’s bubbly, tropical calm, I started to notice the edges softening. The lighting didn’t feel as harsh, the host seemed less manic, and even that acoustic ballad about someone’s pet ferret had a certain… charm? Truly didn’t change the show, it just made being part of the moment a lot more enjoyable.
By the time I cracked open my second Truly, I wasn’t exactly convinced the jokes had improved, but I had fully settled into the rhythm of the room. The men in flannels kept circling the same punchlines about dating apps and “crazy exes,” while the women comics walked up, claimed their space, and delivered material that actually landed. Watching them hold their ground in a lineup of mostly boys brought me right back to my college open mic days – standing under a too-bright light, trying to make a crowd of half-interested strangers laugh. It’s not easy, and it’s definitely not glamorous, but seeing them do it with confidence was a reminder that sometimes showing up is what counts most.
Two delicious Truly Seltzers helped me stick it out, waiting for the next woman comic through a lineup of men torn between virtue signaling and leaning fully into their “edgelord” comedy personas. Even while silently judging sets, I couldn’t deny that this mix of unexpected plans, bad jokes, and a Truly in hand made for a surprisingly entertaining night.
