"The Media must get tickets..." HUH?! Whuh?! The media must get tickets?!

FRIDAY

MONTREAL--What to do? What to do? That's the question, oft-repeated and kicked around over a beer or two. Which shows should we attend? In the two prior years, we would impulsively hop up and catch a shuttle to a hastily chosen venue, secure in the knowledge that if we hung around outside long enough-- and there were a few seats left over-- we'd scamper in and enjoy the show. It was easy, it was no hassle and we were able to scat around Montreal and enjoy a large chunk of this show or a small snippet of that. But no longer! We scurried over to Club Soda (on foot), only to be greeted with the "The Media must have tickets." message, delivered with a finality which clearly conveyed the idea that to resist was futile. Oh, sure, we have only ourselves to blame. We've been told in plain, if somewhat French-accented, English that we should let the Press Table folks know which shows we wish to attend. They'll take our names and record our desires and call us back to tell us if you've been rewarded with tickets... "Uh, can we have your phone number?" "Uh... No...(!)" Hmmm... Right away we're at a terrible disadvantage. We may have a brand new mascot here at SHECKYmagazine.com (see illustration at left), but we don't have a cell phone. And the Royal Vic doesn't provide us with a phone. So we are the very definition of ironic: Hotshot, high-tech webheads who venture to Montreal and can't be contacted by any means other than carrier pigeon or face to face! People are somewhat bemused when we tell them that we don't have a phone number up here. And it's understandable. Cell phones are much in evidence. There is a constant trickle toward the exits, at any given venue, during any given show, of people who must answer a call on their cells. But we lack the technology. Which isn't really a problem, normally. But how ever will we be able to secure passes (free passes) to a show if we can't be contacted?! And even this dilemma wasn't all that much of a factor in our first two years here. But this year, they are cracking the whip. The number of venues listed on the passes which dangle from our necks has been pared down. And a hard line is being followed by the Fest when it comes to making arrangements for the evening's shows. So, we got shut out of Club Soda. So we hopped (on foot, again) on over to the V.I.P. tent on St. Denis to watch the closed circuit narrowcast of the evening's Gala. This one was hosted by Megan Mullally of TV's Wheel and Grease. We got there just in time to see a bit of Bill Engvall's set. But it isn't a tent this year... it's on the second floor of a real building (as opposed to a light, bright tent)... and it was hot... and dark... and exceedingly crowded and unpleasant... so we left. And we hopped into a shuttle with Lucien Hold. Hold (of Comic Strip in New York fame) was on his way over to Cafe Campus to witness a New Faces set by one of the three Fest performers that he manages via his Holding Company. He was positively elated because he had just witnessed a killer set by another of those performers in the aforementioned Gala. Doubly elated because the performer in this case was his wife of exactly two months Vanessa Hollingshead ("Married two months to the day!" says he. "Congratulations!" says us.) This was Vanessa's second time at the Festival.

We opted to remain in the shuttle and persuaded our shuttle pilot to deliver us to the western end of town in order to check out the newly re-located Comedy Nest at Mario & Nick on St. Catherine. It's just over and down from the old Forum (which is now a movie theater!) and on this particular evening, it's narrow and deep space was packed with comedy fans. Shut out again! It was a pleasant evening, so we hung outside and chatted with Phil Shuchat, just fresh from the Nest stage and looking forward to appearing on the Montreal Show later in the weekend.

We commandeered a shuttle stopped at a red light and headed back to the Delta where we ran into old Festival Buddies Dan Rosenberg and John Trueson. Upstairs at the Delta, we introduced ourselves to Mr. Engvall, who radiates warmth like a miniature sun. (Apologies to XTC) We waded through the slowly thickening Delta crowd and saw plenty of faces familiar to us from past Fests, both here and in Chicago.

Whaddya know, it's Ron White passing by! We met/worked with Ron recently in Atlanta and now he was up here on various bills. He'll be on tonight's (Friday's) Gala and, as part of the "Blue Collar Comedy Tour," he'll perform, with Engvall, Jeff Foxworthy and Larry the Cable Guy (alias Dan Whitney) in a coupla shows at the Fest, one of which will benefit a worthy charity. (White is incredulous when we tell him that his line, "What's happening to my cheese wheel?!" has become a catch phrase at SHECKYmagazine.com HQ.)

We deliver SHECKY! T's to SHECKY! Alums Lewis Black and Doug Benson and decide to end this day, which is approaching 21 hours in length.

Now, to explain the giant picture of the dog: I take a picture of Lewis Black and co. at the Works and I go to check my handiwork and, what do I see, instead of a picture of three smiling people? I see a eight loving portraits of my mother's dog. (I simply must offload those images!) So, we decide to maker the SHECKY! mascot! She is the perfect mascot for the magazine: She has a severed Achilles' tendon, which makes her hop around on three feet; on occasion, she has seizures which maker her list to one side, tremble, drool and, on rare occasions, dump on the floor. The vet attributes this all to canine epilepsy. We think it's canine boredom.