Mic 27 Storyteller Open Mic

Venue: Forrest City Brewing

Host: Danna Norris

Show: Story Club Cleveland 

Set Time:  8 minutes

I am a huge fan of the Moth Radio Hour and Storytelling in general and Cleveland is so lucky to have a Story Club. Story Club Cleveland at Forrest City Brewery is a nonfiction storytelling show that splits the difference between open mic night and live theater. No props, no costume changes, no safety net. Just you, a timer counting down on stage, and a room full of people who showed up to listen. Doesn’t need to be funny, although a lot of life is, it just needs to be a narrative you can share with a listening audience. I finally made it to the last show of this season and was one of the open mics. 

Story Club was started in Chicago by Dana Norris in 2009 and has since spread to Cleveland and Pittsburgh, which is either a testament to how good the concept is or how much the Midwest needs to talk about its feelings. Probably both.

Each show mixes 4 open mic slots with featured performers. Anyone can sign up. Stories are nonfiction, 8 minutes long , and may or may not follow the evening's theme. 

I am a public speaker.  Dale Carnegie graduate turned instructor.  This comedy thing has got me back into writing and everything that goes along with it so a stop in at Story Club was a box I wanted to check. I told the story of my snappy crotch.  From the Mic 1 blog.  It is a go to story and when it is a narrative and not just punched up for comedy it is a fun story to tell.  The event was so visceral, so embarrassing, so leveling that even re-telling it last night I started to sweat.  It is amazing how an emotional event stays with you for a long time.  Here is a condensed version.  Enjoy. 

In the early 2000s I was one of those executive type women who abandoned their children for a career. Worse, I would sometimes sneak out while they were asleep to avoid getting dirty or sticky.

In those days to be taken seriously, I had to dress and pack like Amish meets assassin.  

Androderanous, clean, minimalistic, nothing personal or memorable. 

Tight. 

You couldn’t be digging through your bag and have a binky or a random tampon fall out.  You’d have to quit your job, go home and make dinner for someone.

Travel was a huge source of anxiety for me.

Now, we’ve had more than 2 decades, as a team, to get comfortable with dressing and  undressing in line with our naked feet on display for the world. But prior to this security was a pop up table at your gate where they randomly pull people out of line reaping  style for some hands-on hospitality as they publicly rooted through your personal belongings.   

The agent manning the security station the day my number came up was a large eastern European woman with a loose relationship to the English language.  All of the passengers waiting at the gate  were military or business men.  Accept the  women in front of me in line.  She was a future Spirit  Airlines flyer,  casually dressed in her pajama pants and snuggy, with everything she owned in a back pack like Ally Sheedy in the Breakfast Club.

When it was my turn  I acted distracted, cool, and aloof . The agent was unpacking and repacking my briefcase with my keys, wallet, phone and notebook when I noticed her add an item.

Excuse me, that’s not mine.

Des yoors.

No ma'am, I am sorry I think they belong to the last passenger - this is a briefcase 

She proceeds to unfurl it - slowly,ceremonally, like a flag, revealing the largest pair of women’s underwear I have ever seen. 

Dees Yoors!

I break. My heart's beating like a hummingbird on Adderall. The passengers around me are perking up like meerkats.  

My deodorant is failing. I snatched the panties from her hand and slammed them on the table. 

NOT MINE!

I'm getting detained. 

But no, as it turns out, stern was the agent's love language because she disregarded the item, picked up the security wand and motioned for me to move down and assume the position. 

Down around beep

Down around beep

BeepBeep

There are moments when you realize that you have names for things that are not the same as everyone else. 

You see I am wearing a body suit with little metal stays that hook together.

I have a snappy crotch.

You hev snappy Krootch?

Yes a snappy crotch.

Snappy Krootch?

Yes a body suit with a snappy crotch. Like it snaps shut.

Your Krootch snaps shut? 

OK, I vell tooch yoo nau.

Before I know what is happening. 

Boop!

She reaches up between my legs.

Goot.  She says as she hands me my bag. 

Goot for who?  I could have handed out binkies and tampons to everyone waiting to board and been less memorable. I am met with a sea of smug faces as I get on the plane. 

As I reach up to put my bag in the overhead bin, I hear …

Beep!

Is there no depth to this hell? I smiled, I nodded, I might have curtsied, I don’t know.What I do know is I took my seat, buried my face in a sky miles magazine and prayed the plane would go down and only I survived. As the flight leveled off so did my heart rate leaving me knee to knee in deafening silence with a distinguished looking gentleman.  Maybe he boarded early, maybe he missed it. Then, without making eye contact, he chuckles  

Those were the biggest god dam panties I have ever seen.

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