Because I adore my father and because my mother could use a hearty laugh, I took my folks to see Kevin Pollak on Friday. To know me is to know that The Usual Suspects is pretty much my favorite film ever. My god, it’s even the basis for the title of this blog. And the fact that Kevin Pollak is not only one of my favorite impressionists, but one of the Usual Suspects had me booking my tickets months ago. Kate and her boyfriend Steve jumped at the chance to join us, and the five of us convened in front of the club Friday night, excited as all get out.
“Now, where would I know him from?” My mother asked for the third time. “He’s the nerdy guy from ‘A Few Good Men,” right?”
Kate took this as her cue to perform lines from every movie Kevin Pollak’s ever been in, one of my personal favorites being “Indian Summer.”
“But does he do comedy?” Steve asked.
“Yes!” I screamed back at him. “Are you kidding me. He’s does the greatest Christopher Walken impression on earth. Trust me. He’s really, really funny.”
With that, I suddenly worried I had built this show up too much.
“I wonder who is opening.” I innocently asked.
“What!” My parents were shocked. “Someone comes on first?”
“Uh, yeah. Probably two people.”
“Oh, god. We have to sit through 2 strangers?”
We’re going to need some more drinks at table 37. Brent Weinbach was up first, and I think he’s a genius, so I was delighted. I could get into a whole intellectual diatribe about how I think Brent Weinbach is really on to something great, but I’ll just recommend that you go see him with an open mind. Next, we had to sit through some guy my parents loved and Kate and I hated. He was very, “Why don’t they make the whole plane out of the black box???” which annoyed me.
Finally, Kevin Pollak took the stage and killed. It was truly one of the best comedy acts I’ve ever seen, with a hearty Walken bit and some surprisingly original takes on the ever popular airplane subject. Also, I tend to laugh harder at those whose work I’ve worshiped for years.
We all were in hysterics, my parents having a particularly grand time. As Ma and Pa take me out constantly, to lovely dinners and fancy shows, it was nice to show them an evening out-Beth style.
We hugged them goodbye out on the sidewalk and Kate, Steve and I headed up to the WashBag for some cocktails.
Having no reverence for the “Noses!” photo theme Kate and I so charmingly invented in Florence, Steve captured that night’s version, managing to include a image of George Wendt in the background.
We moved on to some shitty bar in the Marina, meeting up with a myriad of friends, including Jenny and Pete. Jenny came running over.
“Oh my god! I’m buying you a drink. What do you want?”
“Well, I want wine. But is it okay to order that here? I mean, will it be in a box?”
“This might be a dive bar, Bethy, but this is the Marina. Half the bitches in here get wine.”
I truly did have a glorious Friday night, spending half of it in the presence of Todd Hockney and the other half watching my god-sister get shit-faced and perform movie lines no one understood but me…