Submission 9

Comedian Bio

Blayr Nias is not your average female comic. When she hits the stage it's with manic energy, high octane humor, and her trademark mega-watt smile giving her the nickname "GummyBlayr". She has appeared on Fox "Laughs", Comedy Central's "Up Next", and was a regular contributor on WCCB News Rising. She was selected Best Comedian by Charlotte Magazine, "Hostest with the Mostest" by Creative Loafing, and Top 30 Under 30 by Elevate Lifestyle Magazine. For almost 6 years she has been producing Almost Famous Comedy Show at the flagship Comedy Zone in Charlotte, NC. Along with touring clubs around the country she has performed everywhere from colleges to churches. She has worked with Marc Maron, Katt Williams, and the late great Ralphie May. Hailing from Massachusetts but living in the Carolinas for over a decade has given her the sophisticated blend of Northern aggression and Southern hospitality.

Story

This fun tale from the road occurred on my 3 or 4th gig as a touring feature comic. I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going I just wanted to be funny in front of people and get paid to do it. At this point I was living the dream and had no idea how lonely, scary, boring, and just plain disgusting the road can be. This statement is ten fold if you are a woman. I don't consider myself a knock out beauty, but it's definitely worse if you are not a very obvious lesbian or a senior citizen...and even then. It can be brutal. I was the opening act at a piano bar in southern Florida. This was a military base town and it was the weekend they got paid, so I was assured everyone would be drinking, spending money, and ready to laugh. They were right about the first part. The bar had a happy hour for 2 hours before the show where you could get a fishbowl filled with alcohol and from what I can ascertain a mix of Kool-Aid and jet fuel for only eight dollars. FOUR different kinds of rum went into this concoction so I'm pretty sure you were only supposed to have one or share it, but the star of this story was flying solo that night and had no idea about moderation. The host was not able to even remotely get the attention of the room before I went up so it was a shit show from the get go. I do have a knack for entrancing even the most rowdy of crowds. I think it is because I am so high energy and animated. It's like distracting a crying toddler. They don't know what to think so they usually shut up, listen, and laugh. I was about three-fourths of the way through my set and beginning to promote my merchandise, some racially insensitive but hilarious t shirts that say "I'm not racist. I have black friends." This is when the shit hit the fan. I have to go back a moment and mention during my set the drunk man by himself with several empty fishbowls in front of him had been a nuisance for a solid 20 minutes. Apparently the wait staff had cut him off but not informed him of such. So first he began waving them down, then yelling for service, and finally getting up to find them and place his order stumbling all the way and incoherently chiming in with my jokes when he could. He wasn't so much a heckler as a trainwreck dumpster fire. It's in these scenarios that most professional rooms would escort him out or handle the situation, but it just escalated. The audience began to simultaneously watch the man and my set like a volatile tennis match. All of them wondering when this disaster would reach a boiling point. So I am on stage holding up my shirts, getting laughs, and then it happens. He starts half stumbling, half barreling towards the stage screaming that he wants to buy one RIGHT NOW. He was holding cash up in the air like a drunk trying to get the bartender's attention. He mustered all his inebriated energy, swung one leg and then the other on the stage to my horror and dismay. I began to look around for someone to help or stop this, but no one did anything but stare with mouths agape. Once he hoisted himself up on all fours then somehow managed to stand he started forcing the money in my face and grabbing at the t shirt I was holding. I could see his face more clearly now. He was not a young man enlisted and serving his country just out for a few drinks and laughs but a very old, very creepy, extremely dirty man and my "stranger danger" alarm went of like an air raid siren. I tried to laugh it off, suggested he take his seat and he could see me after the show to buy a shirt if he wanted one that bad. He took the twenty dollar bill in his hand and forced it in mine while he swiped the shirt out of my other hand and started teetering towards the edge of the stage. I finished my set making fun of him just enough to ease the tension, but not enough to encourage him to participate any further. Once I finished my set I thought, "Ok so this is what a hell gig is. I got through it and I'm ok." I was wrong. Mr. Drunky McCreepster found me again and began to tell me how beautiful I was through glazed eyes and a sway that indicated he was on a boat the rest of us couldn't see. He then proceeded to reach his hand down my pants and grab my ass. Not from the outside of my jeans like a normal pervert testing my rear end like it was ripe fruit and not a pat on the back side like friendly office sexual harassment, but his entire hand and forearm up to his elbow inside my pants. I jerked away horrified but still always trying to bring humor to the darkest of times I said, "That will cost you more than twenty bucks." He pulled out his wallet half joking, half serious and began to fish through the bills. I grabbed the entire thing, as I had seen Jane Jetson do to her husband in the opening credits of one of my favorite childhood cartoons. I took all the cash out and handed him back and empty wallet. I netted about $80 total which was not nearly enough for his offense, but I felt slightly vindicated and amused. Needless to say I rarely interact with drunk men on the road anymore or I at least have someone to "watch my back."