For almost two years, I had managed to avoid a New York inevitability: attending an improv comedy show. That streak came to an end this month.
Thankfully, it was at the hands of my hilarious friend Meg, who invited me to her improv class’s showcase. Equipped with a classmate’s prompt about working at a farmers’ market, she stepped forward.
Meg was now Brett, a surly Swiss chard farmer. Brett was on a date with a woman, Carly, who did not know what Swiss chard was. The two began harvesting chard visible only to them.
“Is it like the enemy of kale?” asked Carly. “Many have said,” Brett replied, wistfully. I cackled, loudly.
