Damn, Jimmy Fallon, marry us already
No really, will you?
Well Indianapolis, for a little more than a week Jimmy Fallon stayed with us, rapped with us, ate at our finest restaurants, played with our toys, and otherwise wooed us with his boyish charm. During that time, we’ll admit that our feelings for him grew.
Maybe it was how he got the Butler students so riled up, or how he chose our city for his first-ever live show. Or maybe it was the fact that the show’s intro put us on full display by including the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra, the Colts cheerleaders, Butler students, members of the Ball State marching band, Purdue Pete, Blue II, and more. Hell, he even chest-bumped our mayor.
Or perhaps it was Fallon’s thoughtful nod to Hoosier hero David Letterman: 30 years to the night that Indiana born-and-bred Letterman first aired Late Night, Jimmy Fallon brought the show full circle in downtown Indianapolis.
While there were plenty of people running around Monument Circle who found their way into the Hilbert Circle Theatre for a taping of one of the four Late Night With Jimmy Fallon episodes being broadcast from Indianapolis, there were even more lovers of late-night TV who lost out on the opportunity.
Luckily, for all of the despondent and downtrodden Fallon fanatics out there, The A.V. Club of Indy joined the crowd for the Wednesday night taping, and we’re here to let you know what you missed if your ticket request got dissed.
Before being granted a neon green bracelet and an actual ticket to attend, the people in the crowd had to claim their spot the morning of the show between 10 a.m. and 3 p.m. What resulted was a long line wrapping around the southeast corner of Monument Circle and all the way down East Market Street.
And except for the faithful (read: unemployed) fans who’d set up shop well before dime time, tension was pulsating through the gathering crowd that no pair of Wayfarers could hide. It was well known that more requests were granted than actual tickets available to ensure a full house for Fallon, and those arriving after 10:30 imagined they’d reach the front of the line only to be told, “You’re shit out of luck.”
Babies in bjorns were largely left to their own devices as mothers nervously knitted; friends ignored each other seeking comfort from their iPhones; and business-attired citizens kept checking their watches to see just how late they’d be returning to work. All of this was in collective effort to block out the joy of the bastards leaving the theater with tickets in hand—the scene was a true case of the “haves” and “have nots.”
The only pleasure for those in line limbo was the sight of the suckers waiting for on-call spots on the opposite side of the Hilbert. Rumors kept circulating that “those two just got the last tickets,” but in truth most went away happy. Once a ticket was obtained, there was only time to kill until the doors opened at 3:45 p.m.
It was then that the first glimpse of Jimmy Fallon’s ownership of Indy was apparent. Literally thousands of people shut down Monument Circle waiting for security to open the doors and step aside. And once they did, smiles stretched across the sea of faces taking their places.
Five minutes after 5 p.m., comedian Seth Herzog took to the stage to get the crowd going, and the only thing funnier than his act were the looks of total disdain on the faces of the old ushers as the crowd of mostly “deadbeats” and “riffraff” sullied their sacred theater. This was probably the youngest collective crowd to attend an event in the theater’s 95-year history. Just before 5:30 p.m., The Roots took to the stage and the crowd members took to their feet; the excitement was palpable.
By the time Fallon actually took to the stage, the crowd was in a frenzy and ready to show its love. After the show’s intro came the monologue. Fallon cracked a Kim Kardashian ass joke, and the crowd was putty in his hands. Next up were a few prerecorded bits and then the ever-crazy Tracy Morgan.
Morgan came out, shook his bedazzled ass, and went on a rant that had Fallon laughing just as hard as the audience. In the span of five minutes, Morgan touched on his touring days with Bing Crosby and ?uestlove from the ’70s, harkened back to the days where spaghetti and fish was a family feast on Fridays, and, oh yeah, he said Tom Brady was retarded. The man knows how to play to a crowd of joyless Colts fans.
How do you follow a comedian who recently passed out at Sundance and is still in hot water over a homophobic stand-up rant? With a Christian professional athlete that spent his college spring breaks circumcising babies in the Philippines, of course.
Tim Tebow came out, discussed the “Tebowing” craze, stumbled a bit over his talking points, but brought it home strong by criticizing Fallon for being “a bit off key” and “pitchy” during Jimmy’s Tebowie performance a few weeks back. Tebow finished his four minutes onstage by launching a signed jersey into the crowd with a T-shirt cannon. Good move, Tebow; everyone loves the T-shirt cannon.
The only downer of the evening was the final performance from The All-American Rejects. The A-AR appeared onstage, and 20 minutes of awkward silence ensued as the roadies plugged in the band’s equipment and flashed their plumber’s cracks. With cameras rolling, Tyson Ritter did a horrible Mick Jagger impersonation and tussled his hair more than a stripper with new extensions. The crowd could barely muster a fake clap loud enough to be picked up on the monitors at the end.
Fallon cut a few promos for affiliates across the country, said goodnight with the band as backup, thanked everyone for coming out, and took a victory lap around the lower level. In just over an hour-and-a-half, Late Night had wrapped, and an already crushing crowd had fallen for Fallon. The conquering comedian was seen after the show through the second floor windows of the Hilbert mouthing, “veni, vidi, vici.”
Okay, it was fun for you, too, right, Jimmy? Even if you don’t call, we’ll still love you. We’ll always have Indy.
