I was chosen randomly to make 20,000 people laugh in front of America’s best comedians – even Shane Gillis was surprised

Stand-up comedians often dream of their fifteen minutes of fame, hoping that they can convert their fleeting popularity into lasting recognition.

But imagine if that opportunity was condensed down to just 60 seconds, in front of 20,000 people in a sold-out Madison Square Gardens in New York City, and the entire experience was recorded and preserved forever on YouTube.

And that’s not to mention the fact that he was used as a joke by two of America’s most popular comedians: Shane Gillis and Adam Ray, as part of the live comedy podcast ‘Kill Tony’.

No pressure, right?

Kill Tony is a comedy podcast and live show hosted by Tony Hinchcliffe and Brian Redban, the producer behind the Joe Rogan podcast. Similar to a talent show, Amateur comedians sign up and perform a one-minute show without stopping, after which a panel is given the opportunity to brutally dissect the performance.

The catch? The setup is randomly drawn from a bucket.

For most normal, healthy people this is a nightmare.

One comedian whose name was pulled from the bucket backed out just before he was to step on stage, completely overwhelmed by the pressure.

But the surreal moment when my name “Alexa Cimino” was called out in the famous arena will be etched in my memory forever.

I’ve been doing stand-up comedy exclusively since March, so I was intrigued by Tony’s lottery system. I had my tight five act down pat, so I picked my strongest minute.

Worst case scenario? Not getting picked. Best case scenario? Performing to a sold-out crowd at MSG.

As Hinchcliffe often says, ‘anything can happen’ and it does: many are unprepared, some are drunk and aggressive, and there are people like me, who have never seen an episode, but jumped at the chance to perform in the world-famous arena.

I had queued up to sign up on the first day of their show and had even managed to convince my editor to let me leave work early (sorry Barclay, but look what happened!).

I arrived at 4pm, thinking an hour would be more than enough time to get a spot in line for the 5pm registrations.

I was completely wrong. At least 800 aspiring comedians had been waiting in the sweltering 35 degree heat since 11am when I arrived.

Only 300 to 400 were allowed in. I didn’t make it that day, but I was determined.

The next day I came prepared. There were only 20 people in line when I arrived in the afternoon, so I was golden. I chatted with the other comics who had flown in from all over the country.

They seemed to be in good spirits, with some bringing snacks and bottles of water or passing beers to those at the back of the line.

It felt like a comedy party, where instead of talking about football we talked about the Kill Tony ‘bump’, referring to the potential career boost it would give you if you were selected to participate in the show.

When it was time to register, we were herded through metal detectors like cattle and had to sign a waiver so that our performances could be broadcast on YouTube for the whole world to see.

We were given wristbands and led under the arena, I recognized familiar faces from the local NYC comedy scene in the lineup.

I quickly touched up my makeup, which had melted from the heat, before the production team confiscated our phones and led us into the arena.

On the left side of the stage, a special section was reserved for the comedians who had entered their names in the bucket.

A live band got the audience excited and the show started.

First up was Tony, followed by Redban, and then a lineup of comedy stars: Shane Gillis as Donald Trump, Adam Ray as Joe Biden, and comedian Dave Attell. Harland Williams joined the panel later.

As Tony explained the bucket pull system, I realized that I had voluntarily chosen to spend three hours in suspense. After all, no one knew who would be called.

I quickly swapped my sneakers for a pair of red heels. I had my lip gloss in my right hand in case I needed to reapply at the last minute, and rosary beads in my left hand.

I couldn’t stop shaking.

I grabbed my trusty red joke book and frantically flipped through it. Knowing that I would probably be so shocked that I would forget my own name when I was called on stage, I had to strategically select jokes that were obvious. Like the kind of jokes I knew so well that I could recite them in my sleep, or more accurately, on my forearm, where I had discreetly written down my five best ones.

Once Tony pulled a name from the bucket, he handed the piece of paper to a production assistant, who then wrote it on a whiteboard for all the cartoon characters to see.

By the sixth draw, my nerves had calmed down. With so many names in the bucket, I thought I was safe. I was about to go to the bathroom when I saw my name on that whiteboard.

It turned out that the chances of me being called were much greater than I thought. And for one reason: I was a woman.

The vast majority of volunteer comedians were male, underscoring the scarcity of women in the comedy world.

Tony wanted a woman and had one last chance before the show on Saturday night, so he kept drawing names until he found one: mine.

I was escorted backstage by the production crew, my face pale and my hands shaking. The production assistant began laying down the law: ‘Don’t touch the judges, don’t go over your time, and if you hear a kitten meowing on the soundboard, that’s your cue to wrap it up.’

All I could say was, “I’ve never seen this show before.”

The producer laughed and said, “Usually it isn’t. this crazy.’

And then I heard Tony introduce me to the audience.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, I truly believe this will be the first female comedian of any Madison Square Garden show.

“Make some noise for Alexa Cimino.”

The roar of the crowd was deafening, the anticipation and excitement sending a shiver through my body. I still held my rosary in my left hand.

“Dear God,” I prayed silently, “if you’re listening, I hope you’re laughing too.”

I walked up the stairs, grabbed the signature red microphone and looked out over a sea of ​​20,000 faces stretched out before me.

You could have heard a pin drop.

The light hit me and I took a deep breath, feeling a rush of adrenaline as I began my set.

The words rolled out with a confidence I didn’t know I had, and the laughter of the audience echoed through the arena.

To put it in comic terms, I would have done a great job.

Months of perfecting every joke and punchline paid off that night. I was able to joke with Shane Gillis, who was dressed as Donald Trump, after asking him how his ear was after the assassination attempt. When I applauded his response, he told me he “liked” me, after initially fearing I was a “disgusting b***h.”

It was funny, but you have to see it to understand it.

After being interviewed by the jury, I was given a “big” joke book, a prestigious symbol that a bucket full of jokes had impressed the jury. (If you messed up, you got a funny little joke book, one that you couldn’t even write a shopping list in.)

When I stepped off the stage, I was greeted by some of the most famous names in comedy, who congratulated me and shook my hand.

Ari Matti, a regular at Kill Tony and now a real celebrity crush on me, gave me the biggest hug in the world.

“You did an absolutely amazing job,” Ari said, his heavy Eastern European accent still clearly audible.

(The common thread in my set was about my affinity for foreign men. Ari, if you’re reading this – call me).

I don’t remember the rest of the performances that followed because I was in shock. I walked back to my seat, the other comedians hugged me, complimented me, and took turns going through the custom-made leather joke book.

After the show I was bombarded with congratulations, autographs and so much love, especially from female audience members. It took me almost an hour to leave the venue.

I saw the Kill Tony bump take effect in real time. It’s been a month since I performed at Madison Square Garden, and I’m still on cloud nine – performing with renewed confidence.

For the first month, the MSG specials were behind a paywall on the Kill Tony website.

Clips of my performance circulated on social media and one of them was viewed more than four million times.

Now both nights are posted on YouTube. I have received an overwhelming outpouring of support, from messages and comments to just being recognized more and more in the comedy world.

My life was completely changed by that one minute performance, in ways I could never have imagined, and I am eternally grateful (and happy) for that.

In a few weeks I’ll know if the Kill Tony belly is real, or if I’ll have to climb the ladder all over again.