Lettermikey

by Mike Covers

After an entire year or two or fifty of daily bad news, some GOOD news finally slipped through the cracks last week: Jon Stewart has agreed to return as host of the Daily Show with Trevor Noah! At least on Mondays!

The longtime Comedy Central show having one of its most treasured hosts (Craig Kilborn) back for one day a week reminded me of my own brush with a late night program. Yes, whether you realize it or not (you don’t), I once appeared on Late Night with David Letterman. Needless to say, this was well before he retired only to agree to come back and host the show on Mondays only (I presume, here, that Letterman, Leno, Carson, etc. are all following Jon Stewart’s lead).

OK, maybe I didn’t appear on stage with Letterman per se, nor in any capacity where he was actually aware of my existence. But pfft, any old idiot can appear in THAT manner (proof: Justin Bieber) (and Jay Leno).

Rather, my good friend Ashley and I appeared in his live studio audience, something that only a mere 30 million other people have ever done! And if you pause the early January 2012 Late Show taping (which, of course, you taped) at just the right moment on a TV screen the size of Idaho, you just might see our faces, unless something on your screen is big enough to block them, like a molecule.

The credit for our tickets goes to Ashley, who was smart enough to order them ahead of time (1987). Once we arrived in New York for a week-long visit, we lined up outside of the Ed Sullivan Theater in midtown Manhattan, that historic New York City landmark named after one of America’s most beloved television personalities, Joe Theater. Once inside the lobby, we were met by an overly enthusiastic page; she was the kind of person who would be perky at a funeral. 

“Now, whenever Dave makes a joke, I want you to LAUGH as hard and as loud as you can so we can all hear it!” she emphasized over and over. Basically, we were instructed to respond to Letterman’s barrage of dad jokes with hearty guffaws that you only see people emitting during first-time viewings of “The Room.” This page’s job was essentially to whittle our humor expectations down so much that we’d collapse from laughter at ANYTHING Letterman said, including “We’ll be right back.”

The man has been billed as a comedian for longer than I, personally, have been alive and he still needs a highly-caffeinated intern to order us to laugh at his jokes? My friend Rachel has been doing comedy for less than half that time and causes me and many others to elicit GENUINE laughter WITHOUT the assistance of interns.

After standing in the cramped lobby for what felt like 10 hours (but was, in reality, only closer to 9 1/2 hours), we were ushered into the actual studio. Row after row of uncomfortable red chairs stretched from the back of the chilly room up to the main stage, where the bright lights of the fake Manhattan skyline illuminated the backdrop. Expensive cameras were mounted all over the place, and the ceiling appeared to have been constructed entirely of lights; there may not have been an actual ceiling beyond them. After we were all settled down into our seats, things got underway.

First, we were treated to a warm-up comedian who, even though the cameras had yet to roll, definitely told his fellow stand-up comedian buddies that he “was on Letterman.” After he left, David Letterman himself pulled out of whatever staff member he was fucking that day and stepped onto the stage. He welcomed us and told a few jokes, at which all of us LAUGHED AS HARD AS WE COULD. During his set, he discovered that there was a newlywed couple in the audience who had flown all the way to New York from their native Australia for their honeymoon. He bantered with them for a little bit before disappearing backstage.

As the crew members got themselves into place, Paul Shaffer and the CBS Orchestra wandered out and took their seats at the far side of the stage. They played a few snippets of classic rock songs, which we enjoyed, even though we were all blinded by the overhead lights bouncing off of Shaffer’s terrifically bald head.

After ensuring that most of us were still conscious and that, once again, this was NOT “The Tonight Show,” the opening credits rolled. As Letterman bounded back onto the stage, one of the cameras swung across the audience, effectively capturing Ashley and I in our network TV debut. Despite the honor, we decided to let the aging comedian with bad teeth have the spotlight that day. We’re generous like that. After all, the poor bastard has interns begging us to laugh at his jokes.

Letterman performed the opening monologue which, as is tradition, deviated as much as it could from any possible definition of the word “monologue.” It included video clips, banter with Shaffer, banter with the Australian newlyweds, a space shuttle launch, etc. At one point, poor Dave suffered every veteran comedian’s worst nightmare, one that is worse than bombing on stage or none of your “bringers” showing up: his cue card guy screwed up. Ever the professional, Letterman recovered quickly and, like the kind-hearted soul that he is, reamed the cue card guy out while a video clip played. In response, we all LAUGHED AS HARD AS WE COULD.

Afterwards, we “went to commercial,” which is a lot different when you’re in the studio audience. Instead of being forced to sit through 5 minutes’ worth of car commercials and CBS sitcom promos, we just sat there awkwardly while Paul Shaffer and the CBS Orchestra played a number. Letterman, meanwhile, retreated to his desk and glued himself to his computer as a swarm of producers, stagehands, interns, space shuttle officials, etc. descended upon him. We had no idea what they were all doing; maybe they were serving as a collective human shield against any sudden violent outbursts by the cue card guy, who kept his distance.

Soon, we “came back” from commercial and Dave welcomed his first guest: Senator John McCain who, at the time, was still alive. I think. Keep in mind that this was the beginning of 2012, years after McCain’s loss to Barack Obama in the 2008 Presidential election. At this point in time, he was about as relevant as, say, Steve Guttenberg (McCain, that is) (OK, also Letterman). During the interview, Dave alternated between discussion about the then-upcoming 2012 Presidential election and pointing out to McCain that there was an Australian newlywed couple in the audience.

The interview was followed by one of Letterman’s “crazy” skits, which is what had attracted a younger and more lucrative demographic to his program in the 1980s. So what was crazy Dave going to do this time? Submerge himself into a tank of water while wearing a suit covered in Alka-seltzer pills again? Maybe throw valuable objects off the roof of the Ed Sullivan Theatre?

Nope: this was even crazier than that: he was going to have food delivered to him!

Seriously. A brand new Steak & Shake restaurant had opened next door and he called to order food for himself and Shaffer. A delivery kid promptly brought the bag right up to Letterman’s desk and, in gratitude, Letterman granted him a quick interview. During the banter, the delivery kid revealed a lot about himself, such as how, exactly, he would react when he was told that there was a newlywed Australian couple there on their honeymoon. Ashley, I, and the non-Australian newlyweds in the audience naturally LAUGHED AS HARD AS WE COULD. WE LAUGHED SO HARD BLOOD CAME OUT OF OUR EYES.

The episode was closed out by some no-name country music singer. Whatever he performed was completely unmemorable; we would have preferred to see the Steak & Shake delivery kid sing instead. Or John McCain.

After the musical number and a quick plug of the singer’s new CD, Dave thanked the audience and disappeared backstage to resume fucking whoever he saw first (possibly John McCain). The perky intern gleefully told us to get the hell out of the theater, but not before gifting every single audience member vouchers for a free meal at Steak & Shake. Ashley and I later sampled the food there; it was the first real joke we had witnessed all day.

So, as Jon Stewart ushers us back into a golden age of late night television, at least on Mondays, I’ll always remember that one time that Letterman was generous enough to have me on his show. And if he knew just how gracious I was for that, I’m certain that he WOULD LAUGH AS HARD AS HE COULD.