I’ve been taking improv classes at the new Second City location in Brooklyn for two weeks now, and I am obsessed. When I first walked in on day one of classes, I was taken aback by the pristine new building adorned with illustrations of notable Second City alumni: Tina Fey, Keegan-Michael Key, Amber Ruffin, and many others. Then, I walked into the bathroom—gender-neutral I might add—to find ceramic jars full of complimentary tampons. And not the cheap cardboard applicator kinds. These were nice Tampax Radiants. I took three on my first day.
Second City is to comedy training facilities what Equinox is to gyms. I know this to be true because last fall I took an improv class at the up-and-coming Brooklyn Comedy Collective. Now, I do not want to rag on that institution because they are filling a niche in the Brooklyn alt-comedy scene, but I did come home from my first day of BCC class and cry. On that day, roughly a year ago, my tears weren’t just because my improv one class was being held in a building referred to as “the pigpen.” I also cried for the comedy community I had just lost through graduating from NYU.
I started seriously doing improv my junior year of high school when my theater teacher suggested that my friend and I participate in our state improv competition after we made our whole cast giggle during some improv warm-up games. I always knew that I liked making people laugh and playing theater games, but I had never considered that improv was a complex theatrical form that could be studied and even judged on a competitive level. Once I won a comically large trophy for coming in second place in the improvisational pairs category at the Speech and Theater Association of New Jersey’s Governor’s Awards, I was hooked on improv.
The first thing I did when I got to NYU in 2019 was look up improv teams. I forced my new college friends to attend the student comedy show with me during Welcome Week to scope out potential teams to audition for. One team caught my attention: After School. They were joyful and spirted, and they even had coordinated outfits: striped blue and white t-shirts which my mom frequently jokes is my personal uniform. They were my top choice. As the readers of this blog, you likely know that I made the team.
Being on After School Improv for all four years of college became a crucial part of my identity. We practiced twice a week, had shows about once a month, traveled together to perform, and hung out whenever we had the chance. Basically, all my college friends were from improv. So when I graduated and tried to find a new improv community to infiltrate, I was a little saddened when my comedy peers at the Brooklyn Comedy Collective were mainly just middle-aged men looking to spice up the mundanity of life at their corporate jobs. 46-year-old Greg was probably not going to become my new best friend although we did do some funny scenes together. (He did always make me play his mother whenever we improvised which is something I would like him to unpack in therapy.)
A year later, I felt ready to give improv classes another try—now with some new expectations. While it would be nice to find an awesome group of like-minded folks around my age to mesh and maybe go on a trip upstate with, I also just love doing improv. It is so nice to have a space where you are allowed to tap back into childlike wonder and play. There are no wrong answers in improv. There is just a desire to build something where nothing existed before and commit to that communal creation. Even if the people you are doing that with are not your best friends, it is a beautiful practice of collective discovery. During a time in my life where I feel so much pressure to come up with a calculated next career move, going to improv class and trusting my instincts is more valuable than ever before.
On my first day of improv class this fall I texted Mia, ”Wait why am I gonna cry in Second City. I feel like I’m at the beginning of the Amy Poehler memoir that is my life.” And it was true. God, I just love improv!
dont make me cryyy