Recently I decided to go bungee jumping off a 200 foot ravine without bothering to check if the ropes were even attached. More accurately, I auditioned for a improvisational comedy troupe. The similarities are positively frightening.

I studied theater in college for several years, then spent several more years playing any part older than Keanu Reeves. I thought I had my acting chops down pretty well- I could memorize pages of dialogue, remember where to move during the scenes, and project my voice to the BACK OF THE ROOM. I was so sure I could handle any acting job that came my way, and then came the improv comedy troupe. Rubber, meet road.

My wife managed to get two complimentary tickets to a performance at a local coffee shop. We arrived early, just in time to smell all the gourmet coffees and order up a few cups ourselves. The actors were already in place, and we immediately recognized one of them as “that guy on tv with the loud plaid suit selling used cars”. He was now an improv comic, along with some other really talented people from Birmingham, Alabama. The show zipped right along, going from eulogies for dead superheroes to poetry translated from the original nonsense language. I remember saying those words that would echo in my head forever. “I think I could do something like this for a living, honey.” My wife, who has had to put up with my incessant riffing for years, couldn’t have agreed more.

So now I’m finding myself in a small rehearsal hall, waiting for the next wacky and/or zany suggestion from a director who likes to see desperation and sweat. I’m just grateful a ballet troupe or yoga class didn’t show up at that coffee shop first. A man’s got to know his limitations.