This past Saturday, swathed in the ambiance of purple lightbulbs, full-blast air conditioning, and the hisses and pops of unsealed beer cans and wine bottles, I felt an educational opportunity approaching.
“Please welcome our host this evening,” booms a movie-trailer-like voice hiding somewhere in the depths of the dark ceiling, “Ed Bailey!”
I was not wrong. For the next two hours, I learned.
The next time my date retreats to the bathroom and I find myself in the living room alone, I learned a new tactic to add to my burgeoning repertoire of skills meant to inspire burning lust: The Naked Man.
I learned that bed skirts can double in utility as contraceptives.
I learned how beer pairs great with good comedy, how weird it is to eat in a restaurant that doesn’t play music, and—most importantly—how it is events like A Night of Epic Comedy that make Pittsburgh such a great city.
A Night of Epic Comedy is part of an on-going series presented by Ed Bailey and Day Bracey, hosts of Drinking Partners, a weekly podcast concerned with microbrews and spirits and the (sometimes outrageous) conversations that we can have while drinking them. These stand-up comedy events take place on one of the last Saturdays of every month and highlight the same things that make the podcast so great: beer and laughs.
With each Night of Epic Comedy comes a local brewery sponsor. Most recently, Mindful Brewing supplied free samples for the evening. Loaded in the kegerator for the night was their PA Table Beer, a low ABV (3%) session ale with strong malt character, a decent hop profile, and a slight bitterness—brewed from all local ingredients. This was accompanied by their kölsch, a light German-style ale that was crisp, golden, and slightly peachy thanks to the American Jarrylo hops.
“[A Night of Epic Comedy] is a great way to bring local breweries some attention,” Day says later, after the show. “And it provides a great time for everyone else.”
But besides beer, these events also serve samples of some of the best young comedians that are currently in Pittsburgh. These individuals include opener Paige Polesnak, who mused on the mornings after bondage, and her days selling drugs at music festivals—real drugs. Like plan B; and Colin Chamberlain and his lamentations of essentially being one giant, walking recessive gene; or headliner Lorenzo Disilvio and the anxiety of ratting out your grandpa for carving a Barbie cellphone out of its packaging with a pocket knife in the middle of a department store.
At the end of the night, after all the beer and belly laughs, I felt like I learned about new parts of Pittsburgh, parts that I intended on visiting again. At the very least, I had enjoyed myself—and if the laughs of the crowd were any indication, I wasn’t alone in my sentiment.