My last moments in Vegas, as I walked from the cafeteria back to my room to gather my already packed belongings, I thought about all the different moments I’ve had in Vegas during my life. My first, was seeing Joan Rivers tear a new asshole into a Ceaser’s Palace crowd when I was nineteen, as I was on my way to LA to try my own hand at comedy. A few short years later I got fired from The Comedy Store show which was on the main stage at the old Dunes Hotel. I was so petrified of Mitzi as she fired me, but she ended it with a very nasally and sweet, “It’s my fault, you weren’t ready. Don’t worry, you’re still a Comedy Store comic.” Which was a small relief but didn’t help my self esteem as the limo drove me back to the airport at 6:00 a.m. the next morning. I turned back and looked through the car’s rear window, just in time to see an employee on a ladder taking my name down.
One year later, I got booked back and was able to fly my mother out to see me - hopefully not to get fired. I didn’t, and somehow managed to get booked almost every other month for the next three years. A financial boon for a comic so green and young. I also got fired many years later when I worked with the great Robert Schimmel. We had come to Vegas together after meeting at a gig in Guam, where we dicked around onstage together after his set. It was pure magic, and we lobbied to get booked together in order to work out a filthy Burns and Allen type routine. Unfortunately, I got fired the first night for being too dirty, before Robert even hit the stage. Can you imagine? I was working with the filthiest man in show business, but it just wasn’t quite accepted that a woman could do the same. I had some resentment towards Robert for awhile after, as he didn’t stand up for me. Now I look back at my reaction and I think, “Of course he couldn’t risk his gig, he had a family to take care of.”
There where tons of other gigs in Vegas. Some hard just because it’s a Monday-Sunday gig. Some for personal reasons. Like the time I was in my twenties and my boyfriend stole money from me after I broke up with him before leaving for the gig. I was working with Wild Willy Parsons that week. We had been invited to Mark Brazill’s wedding and reception. I was too distraught to actually go into the reception, so I sat in the car and cried my little eyes out. Poor Willy would trek out every 20 minutes or so, to check up on me. Pretty pathetic I was!
When I went on hiatus from comedy to raise my babies, I went to Vegas twice. Once to help my then husband celebrate his 40th birthday, and another time when I was working as a photographer’s intern, whom was shooting a book of portraits of the porn convention at the Venetian. I physically worked my ass off and managed to get food poisoning. I had to stay at the Tropicana way down the strip, as the paid assistants and digital tech crew stayed at the Venetian. It was 2 a.m., I was spent, had to use the ladies facilities like a mutha f*cker and was dragging my bags through the parking lot, when I looked up and saw Bob Kephart’s Comedy Stop sign bragging hard against the darkened Vegas sky. I remembered thinking, “Christ Felicia, you used to headline here, what the f*ck did you do your life!?” It was pretty disheartening.
All that being said, it’s been a complete delight to come full circle in my life in such a short period of time. I just had a fun run of shows, and I got to work with the very generous and hilarious Bob Zany, whom I’ve known since the beginning of my career. And my room’s window looks out onto the very same sign in which I had a professional melt-down underneath, but this time it boasts the Laugh Factory’s brand. When I drive away from the Tropicana in a few minutes - I will fully appreciate all that comedy has given me and vow not to ever take it for granted again.
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