A Day in the Life…| Neon Entertainment Comedian Troy Walker

Have you ever wondered what life is like on the road for our Neon Entertainers? Troy Walker weighs in on life on tour and talks about something we all love… fast food.

By Comedian, Troy Walker

There are a few things that distinguish a comedian from your average civilian:  a propensity to be inappropriate, a wardrobe befitting an unemployed Dennis the Menace, and  a terrible diet. The vast majority of comedians eat like a freshman at a state school with a 7-11 in their dorm room. Some of us do better than others. We eat salads sometimes. We exercise (loosely defined here as anything from going to the gym to running after the city bus). Hell, sometimes we even drink water. But, even the best of us frequently eat terribly. I, for example, go to the gym sporadically, eat a lot of chicken, avoid sodas (my favorite thing), don’t drink booze, and generally limit the amount of garbage that I inhale. It just comes with the job.

In fact, I think that it is fair to say that I am one of the healthier comedians that you are likely to meet (ignore the fact that I’m currently typing this while sticky with Buffalo Wild Wing’s Asian Zing sauce, It was a Sunday, that’s my church). My home state of Colorado was already a challenge, what with its low obesity rate, youthful population, and pressure to spend your free time in the woods. But now that I have the additional pressure of being a bon-a-fide, gen-u-wine, Hollywood big-shot (play along), I must be even more concerned with appearances. Do you have any idea how hot you have to be to be allowed to live in Los Angeles? They give tickets for pimples out here. Fees for Gym memberships come out of your check like taxes. Once, I tried to fly back with a bad haircut and they almost didn’t let me on the plane!

So, naturally, this Colorado boy has made a point of watching what he eats. Except when I’m on the road. What is the road you ask? “The Road” ™ is a wonderful place where comedians perform their art, interact with their countrymen, enjoy the beauty of America in all her purple mountains majesty, and, most importantly, make money. It’s also where diets go to die. And I don’t mean slow, dignified, surrounded by loved ones as you pass away in old age “die.” I mean instant, vicious, Darwin award worthy, butt-naked, drunken chainsaw juggling while eating tide pods, die.

For some reason, whenever I walk into an airport to fly out somewhere (hopefully to entertain you, dear reader), all of my inhibitions regarding what I eat and drink no longer fit in my luggage. It’s like I think the laws of calories no longer apply in the air. And I’m not discerning either. I’ll eat all manner of trashy things that would be slapped out of my hands by passerby in L.A. Cinnabon? Don’t mind if I do. Shady looking cheese steak? I’ll take two. Dunkin’ Donuts? I’m bouts ta go-nuts. No joke, if it’s in an airport terminal during a layover and comes with decent packaging, I’ll pay 12 dollars to lick a fucking lamp post.

My new favorite of all the airport delicacies comes from that old trusty friend to all of us: McDonald’s. Now, I definitely would call myself a McDonald’s connoisseur. I mean, I’ve been down with the clown since like 1987. And yet, somehow, I had not tried a McGriddle until a recent trip. There I was, 4:30 am, starving, standing in line at a McDonalds at DIA, bored with my intended choice of a sausage McMuffin. I decided to take a flyer on trying a sausage McGriddle. I got my little sandwich, peeled back its unassuming wrapper and took a bite. I found myself overtaken by a glory that I had never before experienced. I even thought to myself, “I should get back in line and get another one. I can finish this one while I wait.” It was incredible. Sausage and pancakes all in one sandwich, that made me feel like I could land the fucking plane if I had to. I’ll stop going on about the McGriddle, except to say that the McGriddle is not just for breakfast. The McGriddle is for all day. The McGriddle is for all time. The McGriddle IS TIME. But I digress…

Anyway, when I got to San Antonio, I bought a Cinnabon at that airport. I got that extra cup of frosting with it, took the shuttle to my hotel, went up to my lonely hotel room, and quietly inhaled it while sitting on the bed like some sort of recently divorced racoon. That was pretty good too. Later that night, I did a show. It went great. While I like to think that the joy of those two…um…meals? Had a part in my success, I’m also pretty good at comedy. But that’s neither here nor there (unless you’re about to book me, which you should totally do).

The point is that, I think that part of the reason comics eat the way we do when we get to the airport is that comedy is fun. Your job is to come up with dumb things to say to make people laugh. You basically get to be a kid going on field trips your whole life and the airport is the first part of the trip. We chose this profession because we had a dream to live an irresponsible life and what’s more irresponsible than not living your dreams? At least that’s what I tell myself. Stay tuned for part 2, where I discuss the best places for a man-child to eat while attempting to entertain himself in all day in a strange city. Spoiler alert: one of them rhymes with Schmapplebees.



If you are looking for more information on College Comedian Troy Walker click here! Stay tuned to Neon Entertainment’s blog to hear more about life on the road, as well as hot new artists, trending topics, and more!