Besides the friend network, I also have agents and belong to several professional acting services, like Actors Access, which tells me about auditions before they come out to the general public. Don't worry this isn't like the stock market, they are allowed to do that in this business.

So, on this particular instance I see that NBC is casting once again for Last Comic Standing. There was an address where you could submit your tape and a list of cities where they would be holding open auditions. I held onto the info but decided that I didn't really want to do a show where I'd have to be in a heated competition with my fellow comics, or be chewed out by some judge and then feel the need to insult him back at 603 wpm.

A month passes. Then two friends email me on the same day to give me a heads up, Ellen (a publisher friend of mine whose specialty is tea books) and Gayle (an Emmy and Peabody Award winning producer who has worked all over the world in a number of production capacities) "Hey Fran, Last Comic Standing is auditioning people at Caroline's on Tuesday…you should go. You'd be great for it. Give it a shot. What have you got to lose? Camp out... you’re a hearty one!!!"

I was about to email them mentioning I had decided to pass on it but started having guilt feelings. I respected both of these women and they thought I should do it. So maybe I should. After all, you are supposed to go the extra mile in all you do (Yeah, but if the mile is in shark infested waters do you still go, or do you take a plane? Bad example since I dove with sharks). The show would be good national exposure (Yeah, but so is Jerry Springer, and I'm not going on that show…again). The show could lead to a sitcom. (Yeah, but that's why I signed with Letnom to pitch my TV shows ideas right now). Okay…think…Capo…think. Ah, I know two other veteran comics that I liked, Richie Vos and Corey Cohany were on the show and I heard through someone that I think it helped their careers…mmm. Should I or shouldn't I. Just in case I decided to call Carolines and get the audition details.

I find out that auditions start at 10 AM. It's first come, first serve basis. We'd have exactly three minutes to prove we're funny and have personality. Heck, I'm a fast talker I could fit a lot in three minutes, maybe even plug my website and sell a book.

I look at my calendar for the week to see what projects are due. I see that on Friday…I'm judging the third annual "Laff - Off" contest out in Huntington, Long Island. This is my third year being one of the "Celebrity judges."

Then the proverbial light bulb goes off. Ah, this could be good. On Tuesday, I allow myself to be judged by the casting people of NBC if I'm funny, and on Friday, I get to judge other comics if they're funny. Certainly, a good way to keep one's karma in line.

I decide to call two comic friends, Janette Barber (my best friend in the business) and Alan Chan (a former comedy partner), to see if they are game. You know misery loves company. Both have been in the business for about the same time as me… over 15 years. It would be just as embarrassing for them to wait in a line, like a beginner, as it would for me.

Janette is the first one up at bat, she also happens to be one of the judges of the Laff-Off contest, so I figure it would be equal karma for us. She and I have been through a lot together. We met at an audition 20 years ago and were the only two comics amongst a pool of actors. We immediately bonded. Over the years, Janette became like a second mother to my son. We would go on the road and she'd watch him while I was onstage. Janette also has done pretty darn good in her career so far. Let's see, she was the supervising producer on the Rosie O'Donnell show, won five Emmy's, had her own cooking show called "Lighten Up", had a best selling book and is working on a comedy documentary called, Boomer Babes. She and I talk on the phone everyday and are always doing different things together from; going to producers meetings, to climbing Mt. Evan's to working on a Middle East lecture to motivate women (which is a story in itself which involved the Prince of Bahrain). So it was natural I'd call her to see if she was a willing participant.

"Hey Janette, would you be interested in doing the Last Comic Standing audition.", "I rather cut open an artery." She replies.
"Hmm, I'll take that as a no."
'Fran, you know those things are cattle calls. They'll get a million people to line up, the cameras will show up, hype up the fact that there's a long line, and then chances are you are seen for one minute at the most."
"Yup, all very true. Cattle calls are like asking a veteran cop to work the rookie beat again. The thing is my gut tells me not to go, but I was hoping that you'd go and then we'd share the fun. You know it'd be another story we can tell to each other when we're 90."
" When I'm 90 I'll be talking about something interesting like my big fat bum, or how many prunes I ate, not some line I stood in. Besides, chances are I won't remember the line. I'm lucky if I can remember yesterday."
"Okay, so go on Tuesday, by Friday I'll swear you didn't go."
"No, you know I do most things, but these shows are humiliating."
"Yeah, but that's the nature of the beast. Constantly keeping you humble."
"All I can say is follow your gut, Fran, it's usually right."
She paused then added, "Although, I know you are going to kill me for saying this, but you actually are a good personality type for that show. But don't let me influence you. Follow your gut.
"Okay, let me see if Alan is game."

Alan Chan and I also met on an audition years ago. In our attempt to become famous, we would produce a lot of high profile events together. For example, we got Mayor Koch to proclaim the first ever comedy day for New York City. To celebrate we held a 24 hour comedy marathon with over 100 comics. (Ray Ramano was in the event at the time but not famous yet.)

Alan and I even put together a comedy parade and marched down Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, DC with a banner, "Put a Comedian in Space!” The parade got us a major press and wound up getting us jobs as the New York editors of "Laugh Factory" magazine. Our last stint together was years ago when we were the writing team, "Chan and Fran" and did comedy bits on WBLS radio for their morning show, which led me to producing my one and only rap record. Alan did the contract. You see, Alan is like an Asian Clark Kent. He’s an attorney, Richard Chen by day, and comic, Alan Chan by night. We have recently been in touch again because we are putting together a radio demo.

"Hey, Mr. Chan…do you know Caroline's is doing auditions for Last Comic Standing?"
"Yeah, I heard something about it. It's a cattle call though. We did that years ago for Star Search. Remember when we drove to DC to audition, and then called up the producer pretending we were agents to try to get us in?"
"How could I forget? They were screaming at us, trying to figure out how we got their number. Then they traced the call back to our hotel room."
"Yeah, good thing I put on that heavy Chinese accent, and asked the guy if he wanted his laundry. Talk about stooping to a new low."
"Well, how about we relive that crazy time by doing an open call together?
Worst thing that could happen is that we don't get the show but still spend some time together, best that thing that can happen is we get the show, get humiliated by judges every week in front of a national audience and get to compete with our fellow comics in a dead heat competition."
"When's the good part coming? Okay, I'll tell you what. I got an audition in the morning. Call me from the line and let me know what's happening, maybe I'll swing by."
"Okay deal." I said.

With no definite takers, I was still undecided.

At midnight on Monday, I put three minutes of comedy material together.
I reasoned that I had to drop off some videos anyway in the city, so I might as well get two things accomplished.

On Tuesday morning 8 a.m. I head to the city. Traffic is heavy. What a surprise!
By 10:00 a.m. I'm still in the car. I decide to head over and drop the videos first. I figure in all reality I'll be on the line till 5 P.M., and I wanted to make sure I got one errand done at least.

Relaxed, I ease on over to Caroline's which is only a few blocks away.
As soon as I get close I can feel the buzz. The line is around the block. There must be about 400 hopefuls. I quickly scan the line to see if I know any veteran comics. I spot two midway in the line. I find out they have been in line since 5 a.m. Others have camped out since the night before; they are standing in line with their sleeping bags. Now that's sleeping on the extra mile.

I get to the back of the line and I am literally, the last comic standing! Very cool.
I start to talk to the other comics in line.
Soon the cameras are coming around from different news stations. They encourage all of us to laugh, to wave… to act like clowns basically, and being in show business we all happily oblige.

You know standing in line is not just standing in line. There is an art to it. You need to come prepared for a long wait. So you bring food, reading material,
i-pods, business cards, etc. You also learn to quickly make line buddies so if you have to go to the bathroom your spot is saved. I start having flashbacks to twenty years ago; of when I used to wait in line for hours outside Catch a Rising Star just too hopefully get a number so I could perform that night. Then I remember reading a fact that the average person spends three years of their lives waiting in lines. I'm thinking this line may just up the ante to four years.

I start talking to this one blonde female comic, she looks about 22 years old, her name is Lizzy, says she's been in the business for only six years.

"I am so excited, are you?" She is very bubbly.
Not wanting to ruin her mood I say, "Well I'm getting more of a kick talking to the people in line. But it's great that you are really happy."
"Well this is cool because I'm homeless, and this will help me decide where I want to live."
"What do you mean homeless? Homeless as in you're not sure where to live, or homeless as in that car is my house?" I didn't want to insult her, but I couldn't believe this.
"Well, put it this way. I could pack all my stuff in a suitcase. I live at a friend's house now out in LA, because I'm waiting to see if a few projects come through. Right now I'm staying in New York with a couple of friends. A few years ago when I decided that I was going to do stand up, I though it was easier if I didn't have baggage.
"But you have a home somewhere right?"
"Nope, I sold all my furniture. I don’t' rent anywhere or own anything. I only buy cheap clothes so I can discard them and buy new ones whenever I move. I don't stay in one place too long; don't want to ever burden people. I talk about all this in my act."

Wow, spoken like a true comic… we use the stage as a confessional at times, a confessional with a funny slant of course. Our penance is not how many Hail Mary's your going to get, but how many laughs on stage that night you get about your life.

I said to her. "I went the other route. Not that I'm a pack rat, but I have a house with a ton of knick knacks, photo albums, clothes that fit me when I was twenty that I will get into again some day. I also have a kid who's going to college, a boyfriend… you know the whole balanced life deal. My belief is if you want to do something you find a way, if you don't you find an excuse. It's whatever works for the person."

"Yeah well if this gig comes through, then I'll be living in the house with the other comics for a few weeks and I won't have to worry about where to live."

"Whadda ya mean, live with the other comics for a few weeks?" I asked.
"They put you in a house together… then like on survivor you go into a booth, basically talk bad about the other comics and challenge them to a joke off. People get booted off till there is a winner. I'm not really good at that stuff." She smiled.

"Yeah, me neither. I only stab people in the front when they are looking at me and if they hurt my family… okay and I'd stab them if I got a part in the Sopranos as a hit woman or something… actually then I'd use a gun. I might have to rethink this." I said.

As we're talking she receives a call from a friend of hers who is just coming out of the auditions. Didn't catch her name. But this woman comes over with a shopping cart full of clothes.

"What, are you homeless too?" I said incredulously.
She laughs, "Nah, slept on the street last night to make sure I could get in."
"So what was it like?" I asked.
"First you fill out a whole bunch of papers. Then you go in. There are these two guys in there, one acts nice and the other is nasty. There's also a cameraman and he laughs out loud every now and then. I only got to do one joke."
"One joke that's not even 30 seconds of stuff!" I said.
"Yeah, but the guy said he saw me last time when I walked out on the audition cause I was mad. He said he liked my anger. So I am moved to the second round. I come back tomorrow."
I'm thinking this is good; she got picked for a comedy reality show because they liked her anger… go figure. I decide I'm not going to do my act, just yell at them when I get in.

Those in the area congratulate her.

The line moves slowly forward… about 10 feet. We're talking progress now. We've been in line for an hour.
Only three other people have come in line since I got here. So basically, I'm still in the end of the line.

Lizzy starts talking on the phone. I start talking to Darryl who's reading the life story of Paul Lynn. Darryl's originally from Brooklyn, and now lives in New Jersey. His relatives act as if Jersey's a whole other country. I tell him people take the tunnels to Jersey so no one sees them going.

To pass the time I start telling Darryl about my adventure trips, showing pictures of my kid, hell I was ready to set up a stand and start selling books. Darryl and I talk for a long time.

Finally, the line moves forward another 10 feet.
We are now standing in the shadows of a tall building and all of us are freezing. Lizzy suggests we all cuddle. 'Don't worry I don't have any communicable disease." We all look at each other, trust her word but decide we will all freeze separately.

The camera people come by again. Then this reporter, Michael Kane, who is standing to the side of the line, calls out, “I'm from the New York Post anyone got a quick joke they want to tell?"
I figure what the heck. “Sure, not only can I tell ya a joke, I can tell it quickly since I'm the Guinness book of world records fastest talking female. I'm even in this years Ripley's Believe it or Not book as the only author to do a book signing at the top of Kilimanjaro and down by the Titanic." The reporter obviously thinks I'm making this stuff up. "That's nice… just tell your joke." His photographer starts snapping away as I tell my joke into his recorder. The reporter says, "Great. Thanks, that’s actually one of the better jokes I've heard in this line today. Good luck." Then he turns to the line. "Anyone else?"

I nudge some of the other comics.
"Go tell the guy a joke. At least if this audition doesn't work out you’ll get some press."
They all shy away for different reasons.
The reporter tells me, "Don’t' worry you will be in the paper tomorrow, promise."
He winks. I'm not worried, but it was cool to know.

Not even twenty minutes after the reporters leave, the producers (or directors of the show…not sure which they were) showed up flanked by two cops. Since we are at the back of the line they start with us.

To be continued …