Looking back at 2022, I realized I never put in writing one of the highlights. In early June, I went with three friends to the Skyline Comedy Cafe in Appleton. That evening we rode in the elevator with Bobcat Goldthwait.
For some background on Bobcat Goldthwait (the “th” in his surname is silent), he rose to fame in the early ‘80s as a rowdy alternative comic who spoke in bursts of wild screeches. His strange and feisty persona led to movie roles in the Police Academy franchise and Scrooged. (One of my favorite Christmas movies.)
In recent years, the man has dropped the neurotic howls and evolved into what he does best. He shares hilarious tales from his extraordinary life. And he does so in a sincere, bemused voice that’s not some insane character.
Bobcat was nearly attacked by killer sharks while snorkeling with his dear friend Robin Williams. He opened shows for Nirvana after Nevermind blew up. At the United Center in Chicago, he incensed the crowd with a wicked joke about the passing of Michael Jordan’s father. For his safety, security had to smuggle him past livid Chicagoans out of the arena inside of luggage. He set furniture on fire on the set of The Tonight Show. Bobcat caused, savored, and retold so much hysterical mayhem.
At first, I was not psyched about the show. That Saturday my mental health made me feel unadventurous. Missing an evening with Bobcat Goldthwait seemed acceptable. My friends had to do some convincing to get me to go. I’m glad they did.
The way it went down was like something out of a dream. As our group of four walked through the back lot to the entrance, we crossed paths with someone who made me do a double-take. I was surprised but I took it in stride. It was none other than Bobcat Goldthwait himself.
Standing at about 5-foot-6 with a slim build, he kept a brisk pace. He wore glasses and a quirky grin. He looked something like this:
That’s how he was dressed on Friday night at Skyline, anyway. We saw him on a Saturday. The porkpie hat and geek-stylish glasses made him stand out.
What could I say?
“Hello, Bobcat Goldthwait!” I said cheerfully.
Simple enough. No regrets there.
We were so close that I was able to hold the door open for the headliner. He chuckled and nodded at the gesture. A few other folks in the lobby happily buzzed about the Bobcat sighting.
“Thanks,” Bobcat said. We stopped at the elevator. Bobcat kept going to the staircase at the far end of the lobby. “Everybody, thanks for coming!” he called out.
“Well, thanks for being funny,” I replied.
It was a nice exchange. Someone from another group pressed the button for the elevator. Their group of four joined in on our Bobcat chatter.
“Whoa, that was him.”
“Can you believe it?”
“He walks into places! Just like a regular guy.”
By this point, I had no regrets about leaving the couch at home for an adventure. The elevator dinged and we went inside. The ride up lasted only a floor. The doors spread open on the second floor. Someone was waiting. It was Bobcat Goldthwait.
Skyline shares the historic Between the Locks building with the Stone Arch Bar and Restaurant among other spots, and the club’s signature quirk is that it can only be accessed by an elevator ride to the fifth floor. The staircase Bobcat went up stops at the second floor. Bobcat would later describe the place as “Anne Frank’s Comedy Attic.”
We exchanged funny looks with Bobcat. His blue eyes flickered behind his glasses. Dimples formed on his cheeks. He grinned at the way life had so generously given him a bit.
We were stunned for a split second before we laughed at the reveal of Bobcat. He dove into the social embarrassment with comic grace.
I said, “Hello again, Bobcat Goldthwait.”
“Hey, guys,” he nodded. He stepped inside and stood in the corner.
“You gotta ride the elevator to go all the way up,” someone explained.
“Yeah, actually, they’re making me do my set in this elevator,” he joked.
The tiny space filled with laughter. He was cracking us up before he even took the stage. He went on.
“No, really, tonight I have to be the elevator guy. Plus the comedian. And do a few other odd jobs.”
Max spoke up, boldly going along with Bobcat.
“Yeah, there’s a spill in the lobby if you want to clean that up later.”
We laughed some more. I made eye contact with Bobcat. I found out later that he noticed my shirt. It showed the Nirvana logo of a smiley face with X’d out eyes, with a rainbow bending around it.
The ride stopped on the fifth floor. The doors spread open and we cheerfully parted ways with the comic. It was the most fulfilling elevator ride of my life–a fleeting, charming wink from the universe.
As for my shirt, it was recalled midway through Bobcat’s set. To lead into his story about opening for Nirvana and almost inciting a beating from angry fans, Bobcat said, “Earlier tonight I saw a young man in a Nirvana shirt, which reminds me…”
Wow. Just, holy shit wow. Not only did I help Bobcat with a segue, but he referred to my boney 39-year-old ass self as a “young man.” Oh, Bobcat. What a charmer! Sitting at our table, my friends excitedly turned to me.
“He means you!”
My chest swelled with pride. I was probably blushing beneath my beard. I might as well have waved at Bobcat with a handkerchief and tittered, “Flattery will get you everywhere, good sir.”
In what was a heart-wrenching year in some aspects, I wanted to take some time to document what a great experience this was. On the drive back to Fond du Lac that night, we were still abuzz with comic joy. We nerded out repeating all our favorite Bobcat bits,
This is the last part of the story I want to get across. When I begrudgingly sent a text to confirm that I’d go along to Skyline even though I wasn’t feeling the greatest (because I can be a moody, too-shy wiener boy), I went to my closet to decide on a shirt. The reason I chose the one I did was because I vaguely recalled seeing a YouTube clip or passage in a book or something that Bobcat Goldthwait had a connection to one of my favorite bands.
Hours later, when the star of the show recalled my shirt, it clicked that something positive had manifested because of my actions and choices. And if I can summon the will to get out of bed in the morning, and work up the courage to leave the house, I’m capable of not only having an adventure, but impacting that adventure and everyone in it in a productive way.
