My Life on the Post Road: Up a Tree

I may be living under a rock, but I had no idea there is a professional comedy club right here in our cozy hometown. No need to drive or take the train to the city – just drive down the Post Road to the Westport Inn, walk around the back, and take the stairs down to the basement to The Treehouse. They offer first rate and well-known comedy acts right here in our own backyard. Prices are reasonable and staff friendly, and best of all, you can be home by 10:30 p.m. (since everything else in town is closed by then anyway), without worrying about traffic or catching the last train out of Grand Central.

My friend and I sat just at the side of the stage last Saturday night to see the Comedy Showcase, featuring several upcoming and veteran stand ups. The tickets were $19.50, and there’s a $15 drink minimum per person, but that’s waived if you order dinner from Bistro B - and those entrees looked pretty tasty.

Every single comedian made us laugh so hard that our cheeks and bellies hurt by the end of the evening. Perhaps equally as funny, although much more mystifying, was the couple that sat, dead center and front row, with arms folded, faces scowled, and eyebrows raised. They honestly looked like they’d spent the day prepping for a colonoscopy and then thought they were going to a religious revival, but found themselves trapped in a crowded room with men and women of various ages standing up in front of them saying “penis” repeatedly. They seemed completely befuddled at both the entertainment and why everyone around them seemed to be enjoying it so much. They just doubled our mirth – we laughed twice as hard every time the comic dropped a joke because a) it was funny, and b) our joyless friends rolled their eyes even harder. We did feel badly for the performers, because the couple’s reactions were, literally, right in their faces – but the rest of the room rocked so uproariously that we figured it compensated for the pouting grouches in the front.

This may have been the first time in my 22 years in Westport that I climbed down to the Treehouse, but it certainly won’t be my last. Laughter is undoubtedly good medicine. We both came in weighed down by certain cares, but left feeling much lighter.

Photo by Diane Lowman

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