Festivus at the Cornerstone is comprised mostly of revelry; its symbolic epicentre the Festivus pole around which the night's festivities revolve. At it's true core, however, is the airing of grievances.
Before I had finished my first drink, Steve came around to ask whether we were interested in airing grievances. Rick J, Mackin, Josh and Moose each respectfully declined. As Rick put it, "I don't have any grievances. Everything's great." I asked that Steve add me to his list. Apparently, at 10:30, the music was to stop, Steve would take his rightful place onstage as emcee, and we would each, one by one, be afforded the opportunity, with the assistance of a microphone, to expound upon the many wonderous flaws of this world as we perceived them, and in however much detail we saw fit.
Steve's introduction was a much lauded stand-up routine. No surprises here. His buddies followed suit, their sordid grievances drawing delirious laughter from the crowd seemingly without effort. Our cackle was doubled over despite not knowing any of the characters taking to the stage. These guys had certainly come prepared.
As I finished another beer, carelessly dropping the empty glass on the table, Moose leaned over to me and asked, "What are you going to say?"
"I don't really know," I responded, suddenly aware of the fact that I was likely in the hole or on deck.
"And next, we have my buddy, Seamus. Seamus...." Steve said as he gestured in my direction.
I took to the stage without hesitation, completely certain my "act" would work itself out.
As I took the microphone and looked out onto the crowd, all capacity for thought ceased. Autopilot.
"Yeah, I've got grievances," I asserted with an unfounded swagger. "I don't like black people!"
I waited for the flood of laughter to wash over me..... And waited..... And waited.
As I focused in on some of the individual faces in the crowd, I realized people weren't so much laughing as they were simply staring at me, mouths agape, in utter disbelief. I looked towards Kofi, a friend of mine who happens to be black. Surely this flash of comedic brilliance wasn't lost on the only black guy at the Festivus party at the bar in South Boston, right?
Wrong. Sorta. Kofi shrugged, as if to disavow my existence completely, but then smiled as if to say, "You're on your own, man. This is fantastic."
It was then that I got my flood. Not in laughs though. It was the sweat accumulating under my arms and on my forehead.
I started to tell the story detailed in "I'm a bad person". It took five minutes for me to get to the part where I cross the street with my dog. Suddenly I realized not only had I neglected to say anything funny while on stage for over five minutes, but the story I was telling didn't really qualify as a grievance. It was an anecdote.
"I can't do this..." I stammered, handing the microphone back to Steve and sauntering off the stage with my tail between my legs.
By the grace of god I had a fresh beer waiting for me as I slunk back into my chair. This served nicely as a prop that helped me pretend to be unphased by the steaming dump I left on stage in front of several friends and between 20 and 30 strangers. I tried to laugh off the taunts of my wife and my friends. By the end of that beer, in fact, with the help of those who followed, I was on the road to recovery.
All would soon be forgotten.
"Rick J!" Steve announced to the surprise of all of us. As Rick confidently strode up the stairs of the stage we wondered what was in store.
As Rick pointed at the DJ, there was suddenly an air of familiarity.
As he'd said before, Rick didn't have any grievances. "Everything's great", which is why it made perfect sense to us when the DJ put on "Welcome to the Jungle". As Rick channeled Axl Rose like only Rick can channel Axyl Rose, all was right with the world. Or so we thought.
As the song went on....... and on and on, we realized that everone else wasn't enjoying Rick's performance as much as we were. Eventually, a fellow reveler approached the stage with the Festivus pole, poking Rick with it while others behind him booed.
"Get off the stage!" someone hissed.
I couldn't have been happier. This was definitely worse than my performance. Everything in its right place, I smiled as I took a swig of my beer. "Seamus, you have to do something! They're gonna fight!" Moose interrupted.
Begrudgingly, I obliged, breaking up what may or may not have taken a turn for the worse had I been left alone to enjoy my redemption unfettered. (Rick and his would-be attacker actually shared a beer minutes later.)
Then, in what can only be described as a Festivus miracle, a stranger took to the stage. From the fact that Steve did not introduce him by name I assumed this man happened upon our sumptuous celebration and was now inspired by the Festivus spirit to participate.
He snatched the microphone from Steve.
"I have grievances! I'm Latina! I'm a fag! And I hate every single one of you!"
