Ever have that feeling that you've "been there" before? Of course, everyone has! It's called Déjà vu! But have you ever experienced Deja Too? You've been there twice, but still couldn't block it out? Picture it, you are way out of your element. And by that, I mean you're out of town and at the local bar. You don't know anybody, and all you want to do is drink! You do your best to yell your drink order to the bartender, meanwhile maintaining your fake smile to all the strangers walking past, looking at you. All you are trying to do is FIT (the fuck) IN! But, you realize that you're outnumbered. You can probably finish this beer and get the hell out of "awkward bar moment #427," unscathed. In your head, it's down to you and that semi-warm Bud Lite you've been clinging to while the local drunk chews on your ear for twenty minutes.

You boldly walk away from a conversation that strikes you at first as creepy. Oddly familiar, perhaps. You in fact choose to just leave. There's no doubt in your mind. You are hoping it is just a dream sequence, and then "Bam!" just as you're about to reach the door, something else that seems like it could have happened at that bar hits you again?! Man, oh man. Nobody likes to hear the news that, "Yeah, you were here about two years ago," followed by, "And guess, what? We saw you the first time you came here five years ago!"

It didn't hit me until I walked up to the front desk of the Pear Tree Inn, where they put up weak comedians. I mean, weekly comics. When I walked into the brightly lit room where the check-in counter was located, the weariness from the hours I'd spent on the road disappeared. They were replaced with a new vigor. I was checking into the Pear Tree Inn, a subsidy of Drury Inn – a mediocre hotel chain that provides a full blown continental breakfast. I was intrigued, to say the least.

My luck and enthusiasm instantly changed after my initial interaction with a not-so-happy-to-be there woman sitting behind the counter. After everything was signed and agreed to, I remembered that I forgot something. I forgot to ask for a smoking room. "Damnit! I hope this isn't gonna be a problem," I said jokingly as I requested a smoking room. Upon hearing this the tired, bored old lady begrudgingly snatched my receipt back from my hand, scribbled something in the corner, then handed me another key. She didn't even look at me when she did this. I felt like I was the fifth customer in a row to ask for a smoking room! I replied, "What? I'm the fifth guy in a row to ask for a smoking room?" Nothing.

She shoved her left arm out with its palm up, as if to say, "Gimme the old key." (Somehow, by that gesture, I knew that was what she was saying) I pulled the key from my pocket, smacked it down into the middle of her palm, and the oh so nice lady snatched it, and pulled her hand back. Not missing a beat, I asked her where the new room was, and again, without looking up at me, she sighed heavily and pointed up and over my shoulder. For some reason, that whole scene seemed quite familiar and that feeling grew stronger when I went to open the door to room #207.

"Hmm, this looks like I've been here before. Either I had a bad dream about this, or this door looks...ungh!" The door handle was stuck. I tried and tried, and was about to give up, when I remembered in the dream that if I pushed on the door while I turn the handle, "Beep-beep-Kathunk!" Like magic, it opened, and there I was in the exact same room as the last time. I was back in Sikeston - a little Missouri town that no one knew about, except me. And that lady that worked at the Pear Tree Inn off Highway Whatever.

I called a comic friend of mine to tell him what just took place. He laughed into the phone as he tried to tell me that he was about to go up on stage in Tulsa, but "Thanks for getting into my head right before I go on stage!" I reminded him that he would have called me had the same thing happened to him. He acquiesced. "OK, what's the problem," he inquired. I blurted, "Dude, I'm playing a placed called "Cheers Bar & Grill", a place where apparently, NOBODY knows my name!" He chuckled and asked, "And why is that?" I almost cut him off with, "Because they misspelled my name on the marquis, not once but twice!"

Now, I don't know how it hits other comics when they see their name in lights, but when they see it AND it's misspelled? Why, it brings a tear to your eye, especially after driving twelve hours! An hour before show time, I drove to the gig and noticed my name on the beautiful marquis

My name (JR Brow) appeared on the front of the marquis as such: "JR BROWE - COMEDIAN NITE" I chuckled and thought, "Well, I'd always considered adding an "E" to the end of my name." (sarc) However, on the OTHER side of the marquis appeared the wost bastardization of my name, ever! ! I was "JR BTOW - FUNNIEST RETURN COMEDIAN" As I remember this club, it was owned by a county judge. Apparently, he wasn't too keen about anything except liquor sales. I could understand that, but "BTOW"? Come on. Nobody gets it THAT wrong!

Consider this. Your name is Bryan, with a "Y". Somebody misses it by putting an "I" in it. You're not offended, you get it! There are two ways to skin that cat! But if you saw Btyan, you'd have to say to yourself, "What a fucking idiot!" You can't skin the cat and then say you thought it was a dog! It's JR BROW! BEE-ARR-OOH-FUCKING-DOUBLE-YOU!! And sometimes they will add an "N" to make BROWN! But never is it spelled fucking BTOW!

From recollection, not much had changed since my last visit, except for the spelling of my name. Oh, and the addition of the pool table light that served as the stage light. Yes, I stood under it as I told my jokes. Otherwise, I'd have been in the dark. If you can picture it, the bulb was about two inches higher than me, so whenever I made a big face, I'd get right under it, to emphasize. The owner sat up front with his tiny wife, as they cheered on their favorite return comedian.

To add insult to injury, I wrote my intro down on a napkin for them. It plainly said, "Appeared on the Late Late Show With Craig Ferguson", from the Live Music Capital, Austin, Texas - JR Brow. Not Buh-Tow." Here's how it came out on stage: "Uh, folks, kin y' hear me back 'air? OK, well this fella was here a li'l over a year ago, and he's funny, so y'all pay him some attention, ok? He's uh, he's been on, y' might've seen him on...uh, tee-vee. Y'all, he drove all the way from the city of the capital of music, in Texas, let's hear it for JR Brow."

(sigh)

Well...at least he didn't pronounce it the way he spelt it.

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