That rebirth of my pathetic comedy zine, which no one cared about, was enormous for me. My heart sank when I went downtown to sell some copies of the issue to a record store only to discover that it had closed for the evening. My rucksack was overflowing with zines when I showed up to an event, and I walked home dejected after having unloaded exactly 0 copies.
The City was Deserted at this Hour on a Drizzly Memorial Day Weekend.
The only other person I saw as I waited for the signal to change at 13th and Sixth was another driver. Side-eyed him to make sure that he wasn’t about to attack me. That’s when I took a second look. Gilbert Gottfried was there.
I mailed him a copy of the magazine despite the fact that he had no idea who I was. Mr. Smith exclaimed, “Awesome” after seeing the video. “I long for the day when someone will write a large story about me, and then it will be in… this.”
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On the way to Chelsea, we walked at a leisurely pace. Listeners who had previously heard him on “Gilbert Gottfried’s Amazing Colossal Podcast,” his witty showbiz podcast with Frank Santopadre, may recognise the eerily calming cadence that took its place. Still, there were plenty of jokes to go around and generous laughs to go around. Speaking to my loved ones, I’d like to think I’m a decent comedian. Walking with Gottfried was like jamming with Jimi Hendrix as a weekend guitarist.
An enthusiastic group of young women met us on West 18th Street, where they immediately began to laugh and applaud as they saw the comic. In his walk-by, the comic waved to them. “That’s your piece,” he remarked.
To get to our shared Chelsea area, we walked up Sixth Avenue carefully. To the surprise of listeners of “Gilbert Gottfried’s Wonderful Colossal Podcast,” his whipsmart showbiz collection with Frank Santopadre, his well-known stage bray was muffled.
The raucous banter and generous chuckles persisted. As a weekend guitarist trying to jam with Hendrix while strolling with Gilbert, I’d like to think I’m funny enough to be around my family and friends.
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Last Words
Some younger women noticed the comic as we reached West 18th Avenue and began laughing and curiously cheering. As he delivered them to the audience, the comedian waved. She had to write this article, he said.
Later, my daughter attended the same state primary school as Gottfried’s two absolutely charming children, with whom she briefly overlapped. PTA hero Dara, Gottfried’s wife, hosted an annual comedy show to generate money for the school, and she received a standing ovation at her last meeting. Gottfried, of course, was always going to perform.
