Applause and cheers shimmer around the room. Regardless of success, regardless of quality, regardless of laughs, heckles or silence, everyone at the Ithaca Stand-Up Comedy Open Mic claps.
Twenty-six high school students stand in a circle. Noah places himself in the center and calls for a shake down. Doing their best to keep their voices low, the students shake each limb one at a time counting down 10 to one, then starting over from nine to one, eight to one, and so on.
The room smells strongly of wood. Not a particular type, but a mix of many. Every surface is covered with layers of dust. The dust varies. Some are golden flakes; others resemble a reddish confectioners’ sugar, while some are splintered, ideal for kindling.
Lincoln Street Diner is a no-nonsense greasy spoon with a dedicated breakfast crowd and a flattop baptized in bacon. While the 24-hour joints are the late-night go-to for drunk college students, Lincoln Street is the diner of their parents and grandparents.
Snow tires optional, four-wheel drive — mandatory. There’s a fork in the road where 38 meets Beam Hill. A cop sits posted at the base with his lights off, but there’s really no way to make it up the steep, wrenched path without absolutely gunning it.