Ohio has been really good to me.

Throughout my 29 years of standup comedy, it just seems like I keep circling back to Ohio where I continually meet good people in good places regardless of weather conditions, with a smile on their face telling me, "Thanks for coming." And when I leave I feel like I'm the lucky one for having gone in the first place.

ROCK ON THE RANGE. An enormous music festival. Three days, thousands of bands (I'm exaggerating slightly), four of which I've heard of because I guess I'm old. Red Hot Chili Peppers I've heard of, and my opening joke did not go particularly well. Friday (Red Hot Chili Peppers were headlining on Sunday). "Hey Red Hot Chili Peppers are here." I say, as I walk into the comedy tent, and onto the stage, in front of 800-1200 people. For some reason I did not have any idea, or care, or have any cognitive recognition that Dave Mustane and Megadeth were performing at the same time as me 100 yards away.

Oh well, either they really, really, really love me and my comedy or they have no idea where they are.

I walked on stage and I said "I love the Red Hot Chili Peppers. How great are they? I loved them back in the day when they were Fishbone."

The crowd moaned like a child had been bumped with a slow moving vehicle. I was now digging. This is rare for me. Usually when I go do standup comedy, everybody is there to see me, and me only. They have their tickets months in advance, and I have a job to do, and I do it. Everybody leaves happy.

I had arrived at an enormous rock and roll festival where they decided to have a comedy tent. There had been six comics on stage before I got up there. Everything had gone great and I decided to walk up and bump a child with a slow moving vehicle.

"Red Hot Chili Peppers were better when they were called Fishbone." First of all, I don't think this is true, second of all, If Red Hot Chili Peppers are headlining the last night of the festival, it's probably a big deal. Turns out, it was a very big deal.

This whole Rock on the Range thing, which by the way was run exceptionally, military operations should look towards Rock on the Range on how to do things. It was so bizarre to begin with. I was actually at Dolphins in the Pacific Palisades and a guy named Gary walked up to me and said "JJ, you gotta do Rock on the Range with me, bro. I got a comedy tent."

I thought, "Okay guy in aisle six, I'd love to, but I can't hire myself, I don't know who you are, and I'm not going to talk about price in aisle six."

It turns out he was the actual guy that's booking the comics and works for a very, very reputable company. When we were talking about my fee I realized I had one shot at this. I can walk it back, I cannot walk it up. So I thought of what I usually make, I added a little bit, then I told him, "I hate when I get a check and it's less than it should be because my agents have taken out their commission."

If you think you're going to make twenty dollars an hour and you get your check and it turns out that you're making fifteen dollars an hour, it's kind of a bummer. So I added that money, added on my commissions, and I let it out of my mouth, and the guy said, "Sure!"

So I told Gary, "You're going to have to email me right now so moving forward nobody can screw you and me. Now Gary and I are very, very close partners in this venture. The emails began, everything moved forward, everything was fine. I have to do a radio show every day from noon to three in Southern California. That would make my Friday, the night of my performance, radio show three to six. No problem. I'm in Columbus, I get to meet a program director, I get to say the name of the station Fox Sports AM 1230 Columbus. Tonight Rock on the Range, etc. etc. Everybody's happy. Until I get a text from Gary with a half hour left to go during my LIVE radio show.

"Hey are you going to make it to the venue on time? Your show ends at 6, you're on stage at 7."

This is the first time that when I was going on stage, how I was getting there, where the place was, who is bringing me, etcetera had ever been discussed. I got my money. I'm in Columbus Ohio. It's assumed you guys will make everything else come to fruition. That's the way it works, usually. So I tell Gary via text "no idea." SEND.

I'm talking on a live radio show. He texts back, "Because this is a military operation, brother, gotta get you a little bit before 7 o'clock or everybody's going to freak out."

I'm still talking live on the radio, texting with my right hand as I'm going through papers and notes about LeBron James and Steph Curry with my left. "Well, Gary, this is the first time I have ever been in Columbus Ohio. I have no idea." SEND.

Keep in mind I took the red-eye from Los Angeles. I'm a bit out of sorts, as they say. I arrived at 6 a.m. I slept for a couple of hours. I'm doing live radio from Live Radio Rock On The Range. I don't know how long it takes to get from the radio station to the venue because I've never set foot in wonderful Columbus, Ohio (That's not sarcastic. I thought it was wonderful.) In fact, when you go do a college, and the student activities board director, which is a fancy name for I'm 19, I'm the one that picks you up at the airport says to you "Are you hungry?" And you say "Yes." And they say "Where do you want to eat?" And you have to explain calmly, instead of shouting, "I don't know. I've never been in Natchitoches Louisiana." It would be really odd if I said "Ted's Chicken!"

So Gary continues to text me the last half hour of the radio show, and he's getting more and more angst ridden, I can tell. He's starting to realize that there's a very good chance that the last comic on the opening night, of this comedy tent, next door to Megadeth, Shinedown, and Linkin Park, might not be there before 7 p.m. it might take more than an hour to get from the radio station in Columbus Ohio to a venue with a rock festival in it, in Columbus Ohio.

Hmmm what to do? On my end, nothing. All I can do is alleviate some of Gary's anxiety. There is a gal that picked me up at the airport named Kim and she was fantastic. She was young, energetic, wanting to do a great job. She has no idea that over the next 25 years she's about to be beaten across the head, back, neck and scrotum (yes ladies, even yours) by this business called show. However, you have an obligation, in my opinion, when you come across these young bright eyed 'oh my gosh we're doing it!' kind of kids to give them the best advice you have. In my case it's always been the same with interns at the radio show, runners on movie sets, or this gal that at 5 a.m. looked across a parking lot at Columbus airport, and from about 100 yards went "Jay, here." I was wearing a hat. I don't know how she knew it was me, but she knew it was me.

I told her, "This is the best advice you will ever receive. And I'm not kidding, when the shit hits the fan, S-L-O-W D-O-W-N. She giggled.

I said, "No I'm serious when the shit hits the fan you have to slow down, just slow down. You ever been a waiter? No? Okay forget it, just listen. When the shit hits the fan, slow down."

As Gary is texting me, and I realize he might think he is completely fucked, and people are asking Gary," Why isn't he here at 6 o'clock? It's almost 6 o'clock Gary." He didn't have an answer.

I text Gary. I said to Kim, "Watch this. Remember when I told you when the shit hits the fan..."

"S-L-O-W D-O-W-N" she says. Right. Watch.

I write "Gary". SEND.

I go back to my radio show.

Then I texted 4 minutes later "there is" SEND.

And then 4 more goes by "an." SEND.

"We'll be right back Jay Mohr Sports, Fox Sports Radio next."

"Old Hawaiian expression." SEND.

I look at the girl, Kim, and I say "it's been 8 minutes, he's sitting still looking at his phone. I now have him on my time. I'm relaxed. It's not going to take an hour, it's 12 minutes, which Gary doesn't know that Kim told me at 5:30 this morning (and I didn't tell you my dear reader) hence the reveal.

Gary's waiting for me to finish this. I tell her, "He is no longer running around texting, typing..

Oh... Oh....What...If...This..." No I have slowed Gary down with words, and texts.

I type "There's an old Hawaiian expression 'If can, can. If no can, no can'" SEND.

I look at the girl and I say, "This was actually said to me on Christmas Do-Over, by an assistant director, Tommy Ku, who is half Korean half Hawaiian, after I complained to him for about 6 hours about whether or not a shot was going to get done before lunch. Finally, he looked at me and he said "If can, can. If no can, no can."

Whoa, that's some other level wisdom and I realize that it's going to make no sense to Gary who is receiving it. So I told the girl, "He's also going to sit there for a minute before he replies to try to figure out what that actually means because I haven't told him that I can or no can. So then I typed to Gary "I can. Relax." SEND.

Then I typed "Unless I no can, but still relax." SEND.

Gary now has no idea what is happening with me. I have now successfully gas-lit Gary. Which is perfect because now instead of worrying about time, Gary is trying to figure out what this expression means and why I sent him texts one word at a time.

We get in the car from the radio station at 3 minutes to 6 p.m. At 6:30 I am backstage at Rock on the Range. We stopped, by the way to get soft drinks. There was no reason, ever, for anybody to have any doubt. I don't know what they thought I would do in between, it's a 12-minute ride, I stretched it to 30 on purpose.

So I'm backstage and there is a band on stage, I have no idea who they are, but it's important for Gary to show me how absolutely phenomenal this all is. And you know what? It was absolutely phenomenal. There are 25-30 thousand people in a stadium outside. They're surfing on one another's heads. The band is going bananas. It is bat-shit crazy, however, keep in mind that this is a 3-day festival. So not only are there 8 bands each day on the main stage, but 8-10 bands on stage B, there's also a comedy tent. My point is there are about 25 different nations all trying to get their shit together for one band going on stage. They are crisscrossing each other constantly. Gary is weaving, jogging, looking over his shoulder, and as the intern, Kim, goes to keep up with Gary, I put my hand on her arm. She looks at me and I said "This is exactly what I was talking about. Let him keep looking back. We're here. Don't let his energy be your energy. Just keep dialing it back." And she did. As did I. Gary wanted a photo (Show Business, nothing ever changes) of he and I with this enormous crowd behind us.

Comedy tent, not as sexy as outdoor arena where they do Motocross with people crowd surfing. We go to the comedy tent. Slowly, otherwise he'll lose us, because I'm walking slowly and Kim is following me. When we get to the comedy tent he says "There's your trailer"

I said "okay I'm going to go to pee."

He says "There's no bathroom in your trailer."

I said "okay, well..." and then the girl Kim says "I saw porta-potties behind the trailer through the fence. I'll hold all of your things. You go to the restroom and I'll stand at the gate and I'll make sure you get back in because you don't go on stage for another half-hour." She said this slowly and how she knew all this I have no idea because she was exactly right next to me the entire time but something is rubbing off and I dig it. I pee, I come back and I Periscope. I tell everybody "I'm at Rock on the Range, come check it out."

Keep in mind: red eye flight, full day of work, I look like hammered dog shit, but I'm relaxed. In fact, before I go on stage I pretty much could go into a nap and that's the truth because I've always when the shit hits the fan S-L-O-W D-O-W-N so when it's really nutty, like a festival where rock and roll is being played, and metal, and people are crisscrossing and there's actual fire trucks and golf carts, and tents and camps... S-L-O-W D-O-W-N.

When I walk on stage at the comedy tent, I'm not only relaxed, I'm pretty unflappable. More so than normal. So after I say Red Hot Chili Peppers were better when they were called Fishbone, I don't really mind that they moan. I just say something nice about Red Hot Chili Peppers and I continue, and as I continue, a guy in the second row to my right, wearing a vest and jean shorts keeps yelling "What about squishels? You gotta say hi to squishels." This goes on for about 6 minutes. I'm not a guy that yells at the audience, talks to the audience, heckles the audience, insults the audience, but this guy won't be denied. Everyone around him is getting bothered and I said "How much attention you need? Please be quiet, they're going to throw you out." And he keeps going and I said to him "Look I'm working, when you're working I don't go to the trailer park and kick over your house, relax." The place goes a little nutty. I'm now insulting the audience, way out of my comfort zone.

However, like an old fighter that's retired, it kind of feels good. I haven't used these in a while. Pow Pow.

"Hey buddy, I'm glad you wore your best shorts to your favorite band's festival." Pow Pow.

"You can't make children, right?" Pow Pow.

He gets settled down. I tell him "You have to be quiet because I don't want you to get thrown out. They are going to throw you out. I don't want that to happen. Now he's on my side, because he thinks I'm there to keep him from getting thrown out.

About 10 minutes later, a man starts walking toward me. There's a straight shot. Picture yourself in church looking out the back window with pews on both sides. There's about a sidewalk's width of nothing but ground straight towards the stage. This guy enters the tent and going with that old gunslinger imagery, he actually is dressed all in black, and he's coming towards me. He's obscured by the light outside the tent, and as he comes into focus, he has a look on his face that with any amount of street smarts can only be interpreted as he's about to kick the shit out of me. And he kept coming. And coming. I locked eyes on the guy and I kept nodding my head yes and I now know that he realizes that I have made eye contact with him even though I am telling an entirely different story in my brain and he stops walking about 8 feet away from me. But only because by the grace of God there's 2 people that are so fucked up that they're actually sitting on the ground in front of the stage at 7 feet, even though there are empty chairs to the left and right of them. The man in black with his goatee and his mullet, looking like if a late 1980s hockey player lived in, well, Ohio, kept staring at me with hatred. Then he raised his hand and in mid-sentence I said, "Sir you're raising your hand. Do you have a question?"

This man yells loudly "You fucking suck!"

The crowd makes noises of what's happening, noises of dissension, noises of I agree with what that guy said. Regardless, my hands on my pistol. It's my turn.

I say to the man, "Well I think you're great. I do. You raised your hand, you have manners. He's got manners. I think you're a good guy, man. When you leave here, at some point tonight or tomorrow you're going to say something nice to somebody and make them smile, and I'm just going to focus on that."

I realize I am right on the edge of the precipice of something cool. Annihilating somebody by being kind to them, but I need a co-host so I say I think you're a good guy. I point to the guy in the jeans "This guy's a fucking dick. YOU raised your hand." The crowd is screaming now. The guy in Black raises his hand for a second time and when I say "see? Manners. Why can't we all be as polite as the man in black?"

"Yes sir. You fucking suck less."

"Thank you." Applause.

Now no matter what happens, it happens. It's the nuttiest day and evening. I've been heckled, I've been approached by The Man in Black, I've been told I suck, I've been told I suck less. I had no idea how to close my set after all of the craziness, but I realized everybody had a great time. So instead of having a day closing bit, I gave 800 people instructions. I said, "Look, I could stand here talking, but this is Rock on the Range. Let's all go out there and fucking rock. Let's go rock now. Let's go out there and rock!"

Applause. I duck out. I get off stage, Gary is there. Huge smile and he says, "That was incredible. That was really great. At one point I asked the policeman what's going on? Is he safe?" And the Ohio State Trooper said, "Yes, he's telling the story about blowing a ten-year-old kid. They're having a good time." And I thought no policeman's ever said those words. This was the craziest thing I've ever seen. Gary's happy, I'm happy, the policeman's happy, the crowd's happy.

He said, "Let's go get paid." Then I got really happy.

When I came home I realized it's been a long time since I got heckled. I used to get so angry about it. I used to take it so personal, "How dare you open your filthy fucking mouth when I'm doing this art!"

This time, they had been drinking all day. I just happen to be the guy up there at the moment. They have no idea that they think I suck, if it's a squishy or a squiggle, or if the guy with denim shorts and a vest looks absurd, so I just communicated the best I could, got on with my life and the guy in the shorts that I said was a dick, to win over the man in black, was waiting back stage for an autograph. But as I reached to sign it and oblige him, instead of chastising him, (he did not have a pen because he couldn't put the thought together. Autograph. Pen. Paper. Those 3 things in a row... there was 1 too many.) I politely told him, "Find a pen, find me, I'll make this happen."

I know he didn't know where to go to find a pen, and that's fine, because it just was. Because when the shit hits the fan, I slowed down. I think my friend, I think that was the first time I took my own advice, or was in a position to take my own advice, implement it, and see the results.

I liked him, I liked him a lot.

ROCK ON THE RANGE

As told by Jay to Hank Garner

5/22/16

Hankgarner.com