Shark Attack!!!!!

Friday nights seem to come and go more quietly these days. I feel old because I tend to want to just hunker down after a long week of work, and not commit myself to anything before 9pm so I can get a little R&R in before the weekend flies by in a blur of drunk eyes...

With this in mind, last Friday I agreed to see a friend's improv show at an alternative venue--an art gallery-because it started at 9pm and it sounded low key. I was in for a shock-no, make that a shock-ula.

A man who calls himself "Shark-ula" or "Shock-ula" (the jury is still out on the correct pronunciation) was invited to perform in the comedy lineup for the show by some impish, funloving improvisors. These kids knew him as a street person who frequented local stores and cafes, attempting to sell his "rap" CDs. I put quotes around the word rap for a reason. This man came in drunk and hopped up on drugs and could not shut the hell up through every performance before his own. Once he actually took the stage, he could barely speak/rap because he was so hammered. He proceeded to trip over his tiny amp and wrap lots of caution tape around his sweaty forehead, all the while making lame rhymes, my favorite of which was "I got more bricks than a BRICK LAYER!" Indeed.

Just when we all were as uncomfortable as we thought we could get, what with being an ALL white audience in a gleaming white walled, brightly lit posh art gallery in Boystown listening to a drunken African American homeless man spit vulgar lyrics about womens' body parts and bricklayers, the worst began to unfold before our very wide eyes.

My friend's improv show began with the lovely premise of two people making coffee drinks for audience members, and the hilarity that ensues. Mr. Shark-ula again could not keep his dribbling, drunken mouth shut, so he was asked to leave. He refused and the show went on, after he yelled a couple of phrases along the lines of "It's because I am black."
Things calmed down, but then someone in the show mentioned The Million Man March...not the best thing for a mentally ill drunk homeless African American thinking he is being judged to hear. Shark-ula decided to scream out again, this time throwing his beer bottle at the floor before him. The bottle shattered all over everyone, and he jumped up swinging at anything around.

After thrashing for a few minutes, tripping over couches and tables and throwing things around, sort of Tazmanian Devil style, about 5 men were able to throw their bodies on top of him to hold him down and docile for a while while we called the police. Surprisingly, nothing was broken, not even the massive hanging art piece that Shark-ula decided to slam into in his raging fit. I think only the couch was broken in the whole ordeal. Pretty impressive, I must say.

So our night ended with a ill man thrown in jail for what he thinks is "being black" and meanwhile my friend's show never really began because of this man's disrespect. Oh, and some furniture was thrown and punches taken by innocent bystanders.

And I paid 7 dollars for all this action.

I feel less bad about enjoying quiet Fridays now.