The Friendship-Testing Moment That Almost Broke My Bond With My BFF
Comedy festivals aren’t for the weak of friendship heart.
KOSTIANTYN POSTUMITENKO | Canva While watching the hit Netflix show Baby Reindeer, I had a distressing flashback. No, it wasn’t about stalking or anything like that — it was a comedy/improv festival flashback. Shudder.
It’s an unspoken rule that actors, comedians, and performers must undergo the rite of passage known as the festival. There are various Fringe, comedy, theater, improv festivals, and new festivals that pop up all the time. At some point in your career, you will participate in at least one, probably more. Usually, you perform at a festival when you’re young and starting — you have energy and are hungry for success.
For us at ACME Comedy Theater, we set our sights on The Big Stinkin Improv Festival in Austin, Texas. The year before, our friend Alex Borstein was discovered and ultimately cast in MadTV at that same festival. Sure, she had undeniable talent, but we all dreamed of making it big. If the festival worked for her, surely it would work for us, too.
Although it was called an improv festival, it included all kinds of comedy: sketch, one-person shows, stand-up, and even performance because, as Donny says in Baby Reindeer, “it’s comedy when they laugh, performance when they don’t.”
So, Christy, Vee, and I formed a group. We all had sketches and monologues from studying at The Groundlings and performing at ACME. We put our best material together, and voila, we had a show.
What I didn't know was this festival would lead to a friendship-testing moment that almost broke my bond with my BFF.
We called ourselves “Girl Group” and loosely formed our show around the concept that we were an old girl group called The Chandlerettes. I don’t remember their character names, but mine was “Lil Bunny.” I was excited and sure our show would be a hit. We’d be discovered and heralded as the next big show-biz success story.
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Christy had one of the best monologues I’d ever seen (which holds true today), where she played a Bumblebee team mascot. Vee could make anything funny (also true to this day) and had impeccable comedy timing. And not to brag, but comedy character monologues were my jam.
We threw in a few group sketches, and we were set. Watch out, world, Girl Group is coming!!
Christy and I flew from LA to Austin together, with Vee arriving later, and that’s when the trouble began.
Vee and I were sharing a room, and I started to get worried when she still hadn’t shown up at 11:30 p.m. I knew the front desk was closed at 11:00 p.m., and this was before cell phones. I waited for her to call me on the hotel phone to let her in, but the call never came.
Had something happened to her on her way to Austin or worse?
I couldn’t sleep in fear I’d miss the call from Vee. I remembered the story of the silent movie star Thelma Todd, whose body was found slumped over the steering wheel of her car with the assumption she’d been locked out of her house.
Somehow, I got through the night only to find that Vee started partying the moment she arrived and spent the night on the couch in the room of one of our ACME friends. When it occurred to her to call, it was too late, and she didn’t want to wake me.
Vee wasn’t apologetic and didn’t care how worried I’d been when she went missing and her indifference to the situation made me angrier than I already was.
Under any other circumstances, I’d have stopped speaking to her and ended our relationship. However, going no-contact wasn’t an option when we had seven shows to do.
I sucked it up but knew in my heart we’d never be close friends. It was obvious to me she was superficial and untrustworthy. According to research, trust is the most important quality in any relationship, and a comedy partnership is no different.
Trusting your partner is crucial when you’re doing sketch comedy or improv. You must rely on them to know their lines or listen to the information you’re giving so they react correctly to move the scene ahead.
Things were getting off to a rocky start for Girl Group.
The thing about performing in festivals is unless you’re already established or have some buzz around you, you’re given random places to perform, such as bars, black boxes (one-room tiny performance spaces), and coffee-house stages — places the organizers have enticed into opening up their space for little or no money.
Also, the show times aren’t consistent or convenient. There’s usually promotional material, but getting an audience can be a challenge, as it was for us. Sometimes, we had an audience of three, and other times, a whopping 12.
It’s disheartening to perform for a tiny audience, especially if they’re not laughing. You may want to give up, but you never know; maybe one of those people is someone who can give you a break. Besides, as everybody knows, the show must go on even when you’re not drawing in the crowds.
Between seeing other shows (always support your fellow performers), we went to Lady Bird Lake, visited the Texas State Capital, did some vintage clothing shopping, and ate delicious barbecue. Because there were so many comedy groups from my past, like The Groundlings, I reconnected with old friends, made some new ones, and had a great time.
Since Vee is a major extrovert, between performances, she could usually be found in the clubs and bars having a grand old time. I’m not a bar person at all, nor am I a huge extrovert. I have my social moments but don’t thrive on meeting new people or being in crowds.
As my anger dissipated towards Vee, I began to understand something: you don’t have to share all the same interests with a friend; you can have friends for different reasons.
I’ll never go to a bar with Vee because I’d end up sitting there alone, but I will go to lunch, a movie, or discount shopping with her. She’s not a thoughtless person, as I believed that trip. She’s an incredibly caring one.
While The Big Stinkin’ Improv Festival was my first festival, it wasn’t my last — that was The New York Fringe Festival. I wasn’t a performer in that one, but it ended any desire to participate in future festivals and made me cringe just thinking about it.
New York in the summer — no thanks!
The Big Stinkin’ Improv Festival ended years ago, but my relationship with Vee has thrived. She’s one of my closest friends.
One day, I’d like to return to Austin as a tourist. It’s a fantastic city with lots to see, do, and taste, and as long as you’re not hustling for an audience or laughs, it’s super fun.
Christine Schoenwald is a writer, performer, and frequent contributor to YourTango. She's had articles featured in The Los Angeles Times, Salon, Bustle, Medium, Huffington Post, Business Insider, and Woman's Day, among many others.