Joan Rivers and Me

Some of my fondest television moments as a child centered around watching the Mike Douglas Show. It was on every weekday afternoon on ABC at 4:30. And I particularly remembered enjoyed the comediennes—Moms Mabley, Phyllis Diller, Totie Fields and Joan Rivers.

A week or two before my birthday this year, my daughter Samantha called and asked me what I wanted as a gift. And I told her that instead of another sweater or belt or piece of jewelry, I wanted to spend quality time. I wanted her and Briana to plan something we could all do together. And she said Like what? And I said that’s for you to figure out—it isn’t a present if I have to do the suggesting and the planning.

My children are on Twitter. They tweet and follow people on line all day long—even when they are working. So the minute Sam received a tweet from Joan Rivers that she scheduled one show in Manhattan, Sam immediately bought tickets. They sold out in minutes. Joan was playing at a 100 seat cabaret for just one night. A night with Sam, Briana and Joan was to be my gift.

So last Thursday we went. Sam and Briana took the subway from work and I parked the car near Sam’s apartment and I walked to the venue. And because we were so early we were the fourth people on line—seating was done on a first come basis—it reminded me of the days of old when I would get to the Garden City Pool before it opened so that I could get a choice table near the kiddie pool. And when we were seated, there was only one row of specially reserved tables in front of us (all seated with fabulously well dressed gay men). We were 10 feet from the microphone. We were also 3 people at a 5 person table—and soon 2 others sat down—both were singletons. The young man was himself a comedian and the other was a bookish woman from New Jersey. We all were fans—we all had watched Joan’s recent documentary and the Fashion Police every week. We also were fans of Joan and Melissa’s show too.

And then there Joan was. She looked great—not as botoxed as she appears on TV. And she was FUNNY—outrageously funny—wet Depends funny. Mascara running down your face kind of funny. My face hurt from laughter funny. She talked about how annoying little kids are on airplanes-- and where is Casey Anthony when you need her. And she talked about Chaz Bono---and why Cher would spend money on reconstructing Chaz’ private parts and not his face. And she talked about the absurdity of a deaf audience and how blind people never give compliments. And she implied Elisabeth Hasselback was a Nazi. And she talked about every politically incorrect thing you could imagine—and yet I was never offended—nothing was ever said with malintent.

And when the show was over, she was led off stage through the crowd right next to me. And I think because I was high from the endorphins of laughter, or blindingly star struck, that I reached out and hugged her. I hugged Joan Rivers. I reached out and put my arms around her. And she said I am sweaty—which was probably a nice way of saying get the hell off of me you freak. And she was gone.

And when I drove home that evening back to Long Island Briana criticized my crossing invisible personal boundary lines and touching Joan. So even though I had never tweeted at anyone before, the next day I tweeted at Joan. I felt compelled to tell her that I enjoyed her show and that I apologized for groping her—I wasn’t a creeper—just a Long Island housewife with a blog.

And although she hasn’t tweeted back, it is okay. Her publicist who does her tweeting must have read it and that is good enough. I have been absolved of my stalker sins—or at least in my mind.

My girls gave me exactly what I wanted as a birthday gift—time well spent and laughter from a legend. It was an unforgettable experience. The woman I watched on television as a child did not disappoint in real life 40+ years later.

At the end of Joan’s documentary someone says—you have to stand out in the rain if you want to be struck by lightning. I may have stood in the rain of Briana’s criticism but I also got stuck by celestial lightning too—how many people can say they hugged Joan Rivers? Not many. I can’t wait to tell Vinny--my mother’s hairdresser. He will be sooo jealous.