The Todd Glass Situation by Todd Glass Page B

Improvisation was hosting live comedy on a nightly basis, putting on greats like George Burns, Milton Berle, and George Carlin alongside young comics looking to break in—Jerry Seinfeld, Lily Tomlin, Andy Kaufman, and Jay Leno, to name a few.
    As stand-up comedy became more popular in the 1970s,Budd left a guy named Chris Albrecht to run the New York club and opened a second in Los Angeles.
    Budd was (and is) a very creative person. He’s always impeccably groomed, wearing expensively tailored suits with tennis shoes and an honest-to-God monocle. He can also be brutally honest in the way that he talks, getting right to the point with the kinds of thoughts that most people would keep to themselves. One story had him standing in the hallway when a comedian wearing a wife-beater tank top walked by. “Hey, Budd! I’m on next,” he said. “You should watch my set!”
    Budd took one look at the guy and his T-shirt, lowered his monocle, and snapped back: “Muscles aren’t funny.”
    The L.A. Improv had always played second banana to the Comedy Store, but it was growing in popularity thanks to a cable TV show, An Evening at the Improv, where comics did their acts in front of the iconic brick wall. I recognized the building from TV as soon as we pulled up to the front. Steve sensed my excitement and reminded me not to get my hopes up. He knew I was still upset about the Comedy Store and didn’t want to set me up for another disappointment.
    I also recognized Budd from the TV show, but that didn’t prepare me for meeting him in person. “Todd, how are you? It’s so good to meet you.” If you’re old enough to remember Gilligan’s Island , think Thurston Howell, and you’ll get a sense of Budd’s drawl.
    I was even more nervous than I’d been for Mitzi—I felt like this was basically my last chance to make it in L.A. The set went well, but I thought the set at the Comedy Store had gone well and that didn’t work out. When I was done onstage I made a beeline for the door and slipped outside for a cigarette. Everycouple of minutes I’d nervously poke my head back in. I saw Richard Belzer, Bill Maher, and Richard Lewis hanging out at the bar. These were some of my heroes. I wanted to be a part of their world.
    Soon the show was over and everyone piled outside. Budd strolled past me. “Good show tonight,” he said. “Call me Monday and I’ll give you spots.”
    He said it in a way that was so quick and matter-of-fact that I wasn’t really sure if he’d meant it. The valet arrived with his car and Budd got in. Just before he pulled away, he rolled down his window and said, “Remember to tell me that you’re from Philadelphia. That will remind me who you are.”
    Look, life is full of moments when things don’t turn out the way you want them to. But when they do . . .
    I called Budd on Monday. “It’s Todd Glass,” I said, “from Philadelphia?” I got spots at the Improv that week. I got them again the next week, and the week after that.

CHAPTER 23
WORKING THE ROAD
Life in the middle.
    A few months after I moved to L.A., Katy and my mom came to visit. My mom wasn’t ready to give up on the idea of Katy and me as a couple, which even now I totally understand. We looked like we should have been inseparable. What could possibly stand in the way of us being together?
    Katy seemed inclined to believe it was, as my mom said, shyness, and took a more aggressive approach. I’m sorry , I was dying to tell her. I’m not shy, I’m gay! Instead, I lay through a lot of awkward back massages.
    Shortly after they left, I had a new issue to contend with: The Joneses were moving to Connecticut and I had to find a new place to live.
    The whole reason I knew Caroline Jones was throughMartha Helfrich, who had been a waitress at Smokey Joe’s. Her parents lived in Fountain Valley,