Today I’m in the middle of Iowa for another college show. It’s in a tight coffeehouse setting, perfect for my style of show.

I love a venue like this - couches, tables, and chairs on three sides of the stage, with people as close as they can get. It thrusts people into the show and makes it more fun for everyone.

I have a good feeling about this one. Something tells me this is going to be a good show and I start to get amped, but then the client drops a bomb with five minutes until the show begins.

“People will probably come and go throughout the show. They’ll mostly be eating dinner or studying in the back,” they tell me.

My heart sinks. I never understand this sort of show, where the performance takes a backseat to everything else. If that’s your venue book a musician or play a movie silently on one of the screens. But when you force me to travel 12 hours to get somewhere and I’m just background noise? Well, that just pisses me off.

Even so, the room is packed and the show starts with a bang. I pick a good volunteer for my first piece and he freaks out accordingly.

A few people glance up from a table in the back. Others have their backs turned towards me while eating their dinner or making conversation with their friends.

Unbelievable.

I launch into my second piece and it goes about the same. Good volunteers but no reactions from anyone else in the room. Some polite applause when I ask for it but nothing else. No spontaneous laughter, no actual amazement. I’m treading water onstage and it’s a horrible feeling.

The show is designed with intention: The third piece in the show is where it starts to get crazy. I stop with the introductory bits and increase the level. It goes from “Wow, that’s pretty amazing!” to “HOLY SHIT THAT’S FREAKING CRAZY!” in two minutes time.

But this audience won’t go along for the ride. They barely acknowledge what I’m doing.

“What am I doing? Why am I even up here?” I think to myself.

I’ve had enough. I throw aside my props and climb atop a table in the front row.

I shout for everyone’s attention and wait until everyone stops talking. I stare around the room, making eye contact with all corners of the audience.

“I’m not on script any more,” I begin, as people start shifting uncomfortably.

“I came a long way to be here tonight and so far you aren’t giving me anything. And I get it, there’s a million Tik Toks to scroll through, you’re eating chicken wings, your friends are here. Fine. But let me tell you something…the past 3 or 4 years I’ve been having a bit of an existential crisis. I spent over two decades trying to build this career and now that I have I’m not sure this is what I want to be doing any more. So like many of you in this room, I also have no clue what I want to do with my life…”

Half the room breaks into applause. A few people shout out “Yes!”

Now we’re getting somewhere…

“But I’ll tell you this much…I refuse to phone this in. I’m here to show you something awesome. So if you’ll meet me in the middle I promise this will be worth it. I promise you we’ll have a great time. But you’re as much a part of this as me - okay?!”

Everyone applauds and I can feel a seismic shift in the room. I went to war with this group and I won. I pick up where I left off and the rest of the show is killer. The programming board even tells me it’s the best turnout and response to a show they’ve ever had.

For years I’ve been trying to find a way to be more relatable to college students. I’ve tried changing my wardrobe to something a little more hip, using current slang, keeping up with memes, using popular music, and more. None of it worked. It fits me like a loose glove and the students could tell.

But tonight I was honest. I was my true, authentic self. I confessed a big, personal fear in front of a room of strangers and they applauded in agreement. Turns out I didn’t need to change anything, I just needed to double down and be myself. That’s all it took but it’s the most relatable I’ve ever been.