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I arrive in Edinburgh to the thuds, toots, claps, clangs, whistles, whines, cheers, pipes, hurrahs, and hellos of the Fringe Festival. I wander around Prince's for a while with my backpack, looking for the hostel. I stop by a Starbucks to check my computer...
St. Christopher's hostel in Edinburgh is packed. I could paint the whole building with the sweat from the teenagers in here.
The show gets off to a rough start, with the first four five-minute comedians sort of botching their routines and blaming their shitty performances on the audience. It's sort of embarrassing. What good jokes they have are weakened by their terrible deliveries. So many times I thought, "that joke could have been great, if only they knew how to pace themselves."
The first comedian started it off with a very gay dance routine. It was, admittedly, pretty funny, but mostly because he had the music playing on x10 speed but he never fixed it. He was dancing so fast that we actually thought that was part of the routine until he told us. Shame.
Next, a comedian who actually had good material, but went too fast for his own good.The next two were completely embarrassing and forgettable.
Finally, the headliner, Tom O'Mahoney, who was fucking awesome. [I forget to snap a photo of him, but I get another one the next day...]
Since I was literally sitting right in the front row, I got heckled quite a bit by the performers, but it was all in good fun. In fact, after a while, because I was generally responding well to their jokes, they (speaking broadly about them all) kept referring to me and asking me questions. Tom was a bit different. He mainly picked on a group of older women from Glasgow because nobody could understand a thing they were saying.
It was totally worth it seeing Tom O'Mahoney do his stand-up, although the plod through the other performers' material was agonizing at times.
Later on, a walk.
The Royal Mile is pretty dead tonight...that is, until I run into this guy...
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