Not so funny

Five years ago, almost exactly, I went to New York -- effectively on my own.

I don't remember the precise dates, except that it was for Tom's birthday. There's a few other things I don't remember exactly, like why it was that Tom was going there on one date to meet his twin brother and I was going to meet them there a few days later. It seemed like a good enough idea at the time.

I arrived late on a hot night, and it seemed even later waiting alone at the airport for Tom to meet me. This could be seen now as a bad omen, but at the time I was just glad when he did meet me and we trekked into the city itself.

I had booked a room for seven nights in "The Big Apple Hostel", and only that hostel in particular because I thought that was where Tom was staying. It was him who had told me about the place in the first place -- but obviously I probably should have checked with him before I booked it. Because when I got there I found Tom and his brother were staying in a flea pit in Brooklyn, and none of us had any idea how to find my place. I wasn't what you'd call "organised".

Considering the hostel was one of the best known and most popular in the city, it seemed strange that nobody we asked had ever heard of it. Policemen we asked had no idea what a hostel was -- "Do you mean 'hotel'?" they would ask, and we'd have to explain to them what a hostel was, to be met with confused expressions. In the end I slept on the floor where Tom was staying, and early the next day he took me to the subway station and we arranged a time and place to meet.

I found my hostel easily enough the next day, and they asked where I'd been the day before. I explained my trouble finding the place, and they suggested I should have called. I still don't know why nobody we asked knew where it was.

When the time came for Tom and I to meet, he didn't show. Or at least, we didn't meet -- whether one or other of us was waiting in the wrong place I don't think we ever established. But that morning when he took me to the subway was the last I would see of him, not just in New York but I think for the rest of the time we were away from home.

Once or twice there would be messages left for me from him where I was staying, but it seemed to me at the time like it was too much trouble for him to actually wait for me -- since I had no way to contact him, other than leaving replies to his messages.

Aside from the incident I have mentioned before where I was relieved of $100, I managed reasonably well in the city on my own. I found jazz clubs -- avoid "Blue Note", it might be old and famous but the door charge was excessive, the drinks overpriced and the jazz very unimpressive. Instead, visit "Smalls"; an amateur jazz club held underground in an old meat locker. Entry was free, the club was unlicenced although they provided complimentary soft drinks, and the jazz went on all night.

I visited various comedy clubs -- again of varying quality and reputation -- but it felt strange doing these things alone. Sitting on my own at a table for two in a bar/restaurant/comedy club I felt especially conspicuous.

I was reminded of this time last night when I ended up going alone to a comedy club in London. San and I visited the same club last week, and when booking our tickets I'd noticed this week that Rich Hall was performing. Being a big fan of his work, I booked tickets for then, too. On Friday I got a message from San asking if we were "still on" for Saturday night, I assured her we were and if she could remember, I'd booked tickets the weekend before. No more was said about it. Saturday morning San told me in a text that she wouldn't be able to see me during the day, as she had a hair appointment, but we were still on for the evening.

A little later we established that we'd meet "7-ish", and I reminded San the show was to start at 8pm. Shortly before I was leaving, San said we had better make it more like 7.30, and that she would meet me there. Reluctantly I agreed, and told her I would be very annoyed if she didn't make it in time. She assured me she would be there. The plan soon changed to if I could leave her ticket on the door, she would meet me inside. Again, this plan changed to could I ask what time they stopped allowing admission? I said to her "You're not coming, are you?" but she insisted she really was, although she might miss the first act.

I got there early, and arranged for her ticket to be left on the door, so long as she could get there by 9.30 it all would be fine. I took my seat, and marked her seat next to me with my coat. Throughout the evening I kept glancing over at her chair, as if she might miraculously appear in the spot. As time got later, I'd be glancing round at the door any time I saw movement. 8.30 she told me was finished, and I asked her if she could make it in an hour -- "I think so" she said.

I was preoccupied all night, glancing at the time, unable to concentrate fully. I felt conspicuous, especially since during the first act not only was the seat next to me empty but the entire rest of the row. I was glad to be a few rows back so nobody much would notice.

I think it was 9.20 when I sent San a message asking her if she was there yet. She replied saying she'd just arrived, but they were refusing her entrance. I offered to have words myself, or try and have words with the compere -- I was even prepared to try and talk to one of the comedians themselves. But San told me not to, that it was done now, and just to enjoy myself. It seemed ironic that Rich Hall himself should then have been late arriving.

Obviously, he was good, and very funny, but my heart really just wasn't in it. I didn't want to be annoyed at San -- it wouldn't change anything and it wasn't really her fault -- but I couldn't understand why she had made the appointment for Saturday, even if she couldn't get one any other day. I didn't see why it couldn't have waited a week, for a night I hadn't pre-booked tickets. I wanted to tell her I'd had a really shit week, and being alone in a comedy club wasn't a great way to round it off.

San tried to wait around for when the club finished, but she said she was being followed by a creepy guy who kept asking her phone number. The night finished and I weighed up my options; if I hadn't been facing a cab ride home I might not have gone back to San's. The tube seemed to take forever, and San was contrite when I finally arrived at hers. I told her the comedy had been only average, and I was still annoyed at her. We watched tv half heartedly until about 2am.

It was only today that I established from San that the urgency with her hair appointment was because of her graduation this week. She said she'd even booked the appointment on Monday, and Saturday had really been the only day available, even that the girl doing her hair and told her she should be done by 7. I accept that San needed to look her best for her graduation, and it was just unfortunate circumstance that it had spoiled the night.

I can't say I'm not still a little sore about it, even if it could't be helped, and I've told San she really owes me one for it. She suggested if I finish work early one night this week we could go for happy hour in the bar I like.

Happy hour isn't going to cut it, I told her.