There’s nothing quite like the adrenaline rush you get from an unexpected email with good news. Well, sure there is, but it’s up there. In late January, I got an email that first gave me one such adrenaline rush, and then quickly gave me the embarrassed blush of someone who had just fallen for a scam. I got an email from a “Casting Associate” for the 7th season of Last Comic Standing inviting me to audition for the show. Like other reality shows, Last Comic Standing features contestants competing to be the top performer and to win, according to NBC’s website, $250,000 and a talent deal with the network. Now I think I’m funny, and I’ve been doing stand-up comedy for the last two and a half—almost three—years, but this seemed a little far-fetched.

After twelve hours of sleeping on it, I forwarded the email to a trusted friend, fellow comedian and veteran of Last Comic Standing, with the message, “Was wondering if I could get your professional opinion on something… is this a real thing? Or a mass email to thousands of people and not worth trying to do? Thanks for any insight….” I quickly heard back, that as far as she knew, this was the real deal. Re-enter email adrenaline rush.

I replied eagerly that I would love to audition. This year, they would only be auditioning in two cities—Los Angeles and New York. They would have two days in New York—one day for pre-scheduled auditions and one for open call auditions. A pre-scheduled audition means you don’t wait in the long line outside (usually over night) with the hope of getting in front of anyone that will watch you. You show up at your scheduled time, sign a few papers that you very well may regret signing, get in line backstage behind a handful of people, and hop on stage when it’s your turn.

I received an email telling me to show up about fifteen minutes before my audition. I’m a person who is always late for my day job, but on time for every gig. I had no intention of showing up earlier than necessary, as we comedians have a habit of trying to psych each other out, even when we don’t mean to (oh, and we’re a rather sensitive bunch). Of course I didn’t mean to be the last person to arrive either, but I must have miscalculated the timing of my antsy three laps around the block and a stop at Starbucks for a completely unnecessary cup of coffee. They had us come in blocks, so about ten of us had the 9:30 a.m. audition slot. The rest of my group was lined up single file behind the curtain that leads to the stage in the main showroom at Gotham Comedy Club. A lady with a headset was just finishing up what looked like important instructions. I’d say I have high anxiety, but that would be redundant since I’ve already told you that I’m a stand-up comedian. The trouble with my anxiety, is that I also like to appear very cool, calm, and collected. So I casually, yet urgently, asked the woman what I missed. She seemed more flustered than I about my late arrival, but eventually figured out where I belonged in line and was able to convey the missed instructions to me.

When the guy in front of me headed toward the stage, I began to sweat profusely. It seemed like a good time to question the jokes I was planning to tell and second-guess my outfit. He finished his two minutes, the judges said something to him, and he left the stage. A guy with a headset standing next to me mouthed, “GO” and nudged me towards the stage. I took a deep breath and a big step and then heard someone yell, “New tape!” I turned and looked at headset guy who looked back at me apologetically, acknowledging the emotional rollercoaster that was a little much for 9:30 a.m. on a Saturday.

They changed the tape (I guess) and headset guy re-nudged me. I strolled to the stage of the huge showroom that was occupied by about twenty crewmembers doing various things including, but not limited to, looking at the stage every now and again to hear a joke. The focal point of the room was the panel of three judges—Greg Giraldo, Andy Kindler and Natasha Leggero—all very successful professional comedians. I looked straight ahead into a camera and said my name—as ordered to by headset lady. Then I proceeded to tell two minutes of jokes, to my three funny, intentionally critical, and rather famous audience members. I think my voice was shaking, which makes sense since the rest of me was. My set wasn’t great by any means. I was distracted by fear and couldn’t stop thinking about what joke I would tell if I had more time than I’d calculated for. And then all of a sudden it was over.

“You’re definitely funny… you’re very low energy…which puts a lot of pressure on your punch lines… and you have some great punch lines… but they’re not consistently good enough… so I’m going to say, no.” Andy Kindler (above) either said that, or something close to it. I’m self-aware enough to know that what he said is entirely true. The other two judges (who laughed more during my set than Andy Kindler) echoed him and that was it. I walked off stage and started to head out into the lobby, but was stopped by yet another headset lady who asked if I would do an interview. I have a bad habit of never saying “No” to anything—maybe that will change if I’m ever a judge on Last Comic Standing–so I agreed. Then I was thrust out into the lobby where other comedians with later time slots were milling about, and a camera and an overly eager woman awaited me. The woman instructed me to only speak in complete sentences—something I’d already had hammered into me, but how could she know what a great elementary education I had? She asked me questions about the audition and how it went. It was a little bizarre and made me question whether I could actually have participated in a reality television show. “How did it go? I guess not well enough.” And, of course, for all my bragging about my elementary education, she had to correct me a handful of times and tell me to use complete sentences. Needless to say, the humbling experience got even more humbling.

When I walked outside, the line of people waiting for the open call auditions the following day had grown. I saw a few familiar faces and stopped and said hello. On my way out of the club I ran into a guy I used to do comedy with in Washington DC. He also had a scheduled audition, later that morning. We exchanged numbers and I told him to give me a call if he made it to the next round. Sure enough he sent me a text message that afternoon, and he’d made it to the next round. The following night I went to see him perform in the second round, which was in front of a packed house at Gotham Comedy Club. He killed, and moved on to the next round, which was in Los Angeles.

For all of the bad things I’ve heard about reality television, this was a pretty positive experience. I got a chance and a very unique experience, and I saw a guy that I’ve worked with and is ready for these opportunities, move on, so it seems to me like it’s working.

So, on Monday, June 14, I’ll cozy up to the television to watch the second episode of this season’s Last Comic Standing, which will show the New York City auditions, and see if I get any airtime. I certainly have my fingers crossed that I don’t. But I’ll be rooting for my buddy from DC.