I was a stand up for a living for quite a few years. When I was trying to figure out how to do it in 1996, his first two stand up videos were part of my boot camp, so there is a nice synchronicity for me to be writing lines for him to deliver nearly twenty years later.
I haven't yet met him, but I'm sure that when I do, no doubt on set, he'll say something nice like: 'I could tell you were a stand up. From the rhythm of the jokes.' and I'll say something self deprecating, and he'll say 'No, really. It's obvious. You can tell when someone knows funny. And you know funny. Your stage time really shows.' and I'll say something about that being high praise indeed coming from him.
And we'll chat some more, like old friends meeting again, our time on the circuit giving us a shared language, a common bond. Soldiers from different fronts of the same war. The war that every comedian fights – the war on sad faces.
And when we finally part, we will be firm friends, with plans in place to meet again and maybe work on something together. But then the number he gave me doesn't work and when I try to reach him through his agent I am given the runaround. But a friend of a friend knows where he lives so I go and visit him and he explains that he gave me an old number. And we laugh about the silly mistake and we hold hands and spin around in a circle laughing until we get dizzy.
Yeah. I imagine that's pretty much how it will go.