A journalist walks into an improv class and meets two retirees, a utility forester and a college student.
No punchline. This was my reality as I walked into the back room of The Chattery on Rossville Avenue to take an introductory class hosted by Improv Chattanooga.
I’ve probably heard more jokes about improvisational comedy than I’ve actually seen improv comedy, so I brought plenty of concerns with me into the room, which was, in a few words, small, starkly painted, absurdly well-lit (NINE ceiling lights!) and abundant in power outlets.
Primarily, I worried about being surrounded by tryhard comedy weirdos — people who know too much about improv comedy and want you to know they know too much about improv comedy. Selfishly, I worried about being overdressed, arriving to the class straight from a day at the office. Existentially, I worried about not being funny enough.
Reassuringly, my comedy compatriots were just regular folks. Like me, they were looking to try something new. I was, in fact, overdressed, bringing office energy to the brewery hangout vibe — a nightmare made manifest.