Right. We’re suburbanites. We hardly ever go to downtown Chicago – except for that time recently when I had jury duty at 26th and California. However, we made an exception because of Hanukkah.

Here’s how things work in this family – sometimes it’s hard to get everyone together unless it’s one of those holidays that you’re supposed to keep clear. So when my mother-in-law tried to organize a Hanukkah/holiday season get-together, it was harder than ever this year. One of my sisters-in-law is in law school, the other has 4 kids, and their spouses (spice) are also busy and hard to corral. We like to see a show or some kind of big entertainment of some kind after the holidays are over, but couldn’t make any dates work in January, and it just never eased off until now.

So Sunday night we went down to da Tommy Guns Garage for our Hanukkah treat. We woulda gone fer Mudder’s Day but wouldn’tcha knowwit, dey were all too busy. And they have these jamokes and… well, you get the idea. It’s a dinner theater where the cast are also the waitstaff, and there’s a lot of improv-type humor and audience participation. It was my mother-in-law’s idea, and we went along with it because, well, we’d put it off so long, we just wanted to get it over with before next Hanukkah.

I was bowled over – the service was excellent, the characters were sharp, funny and very “on,” and they were great singers and dancers, too. They really work hard for their dough – they’re schlepping stuff from the kitchen and then getting up on stage between courses and hoofing, too. Our waiter was named “Rocco,” another woman was “Roxey,” his ex-wife. It was fun to chat and play along with all of them and tryta tawk like dey do. Which ain’t easy, but whaddaya gotta do but try, am I right? Am I right? Riiiight.

Going in was pretty funny – it says “Dinner Theater” out front, but you have to go in back – it’s a little old brick building that really does look like an old converted garage. In fact, it looked distinctly sketchy when we pulled into the lot, which was fenced, in a slightly tricky but “improving” area, and right under the El tracks. There were ancient, greasy cobblestones leading up to the back door – no joke, it looked dirty and gross and not “stagy” at all, but like a crappy little back alley door with a classic peephole. You give the password to da moke at the door, and they letchu inda joint.

Everyone talks like that the whole evening – at first it’s bizarre, but it’s not overdone – and after a while it starts to sound normal. It’s kind of like hearing a strange new dialect of your own language and trying to use it. I tend to take on whatever accent I’m hearing around me, and so I gamely tried to talk like a flapper girl from the Twennies. Unfortunately, the limit of my “gangster” patter was quickly reached, but I did all right. I got a kick out of calling out Rocco’s name – he played along like a regular guy. After all, I’d seen “The Sting” and “A Piece A De Action” several times. I knew how to tawk the tawk.

I admit I wondered if Rocco would get it if I asked if there was a hot Phizzbin game going on in the back room, but I chickened out. We did get him going when he asked if we were celebrating any special events, birthdays or anniversaries, and we answered as one: “Hanukkah” (ba-dum-bum).

Anyway, the songs were great, the jokes and improv were funny, and by the time we left, our jaws hurt from laughing so much. I got to get a laugh when Rocco was singing “Has Anybody Seen My Gal,” and then David’s mom got a bigger laugh when he went up to her. We both mugged a bit – she’s a natural, my MIL. And all we had to do was stand up – comedy is easy (not).

I about died when I had just finished telling my “jury duty” story (none of my in-laws had heard my tale of trepidation and near-woe yet). One of the cast launched into “California, Here I Come” and called out “who here is from California? Who here has been to California? Who here has been to 26th and California??. Of course I had to go “Ooh! Ooh! Me!”

By then my mother in law and I were just pointing at each other and going “Aaaaaah!” because it was quicker than laughing, and we were less likely to miss something.

The second half of the show was after dessert – the whole audience had to pretend we were attending a revival meeting in order to fool the local flatfoot, so we were supposed to holler “Amen! Hallelujah!” if he appeared. After a while, any time anything good happened on stage, we’d just holler “hallelujah.” They got some people out of the audience to do a “radio show” pretending to be old-time celebrities – I mean, I just howled, it was so funny. They got this older guy up that was a dead ringer for Will Rogers, with a brilliant, megawatt smile – he was supposed to be James Cagney and say the classic “You dirty rat” line. The actors showed him how to hitch up his pants with his wrists and walk tough, and fed him the line on a sign for him to try out.

It was a masterpiece. He was so good. The place fell apart laughing. Then they got a woman up to be Mae West – she was a teacher with a school group that was all dressed up in flapper attire. They handed her a red boa and made her vamp around and then she gave the “Why don’tcha come up and see me sometime” line.

And she was good – red hot in fact – and so funny and coy. She really got into the vamping-for-radio routine; she didn’t look the part, but she sounded it. She was great.

Finally, they got a little chiropractor from the suburbs to be Groucho. Right build, right quirky look to the face – he was totally typecast. They handed him Groucho glasses and a plastic cigar (“Don’t suck on dat, bruddah, you dunnoware it’s been”). They tried to show him how to walk, but his posture was too good. Then they fed him his line in “rehearsal…”

And he totally stunk up da joint, and one-a-da guys said “Well boss, two outta tree ain’t bad.” Big laugh. Groucho got better, but it was clear he’d never actually seen a Marx Brothers picture or heard Groucho say “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve eveh hoid.”

It all played in to a big payoff – about then I started to lose my voice from all the laughing, screaming, and singing (we had to start singing “Amazing Grace” at the drop of a hat when Officer Murphy came back in).

As we were leaving, I was chatting with Rocco because I’d recognized someone else from the troupe as being a Marriot Lincolnshire regular, and then my brother-in-law Mitch thought Rocco had been in some shows there too. We were both right – Rocco had been in one show, and had been understudy for another. He laughed and said it was the best summer gig he’d ever had, because if he wasn’t needed to perform (it was Forever Plaid) he could take off, and he got unlimited golf all summer while he was in rehearsal and while the show was playing. It was an interesting little glimpse into an actor’s life – the hoofing schlepping dayjobbing kind. He wasn’t up for any shows or auditions there again until at least the middle of the next season. I wished him good luck and that the Marriott would call him again – they’re good at bringing people back. I guess you could say “If you can make it there, you’ll have a meal ticket, free golf, and a room anywhere in the hotel (subject to availability).” Actually, several of the cast members looked familiar – I’m pretty sure several of them have either been in Marrott shows, or maybe at Second City.

Speaking of the Marriott, the next show will be “Pajama Game.” We’ll see that in a couple of weeks.