The Sneezy Effect
I got in a van with a band and my whole life changed
Every day this month I've written a little bit about this magical band Sneezy. If it's not abundantly clear, I love this band and the people in it. Might surprise you to learn I met most of them less than a year ago.
At the halfway point of our fundraiser, I wanted to share how I got sucked in to Sneezy's orbit. And why everyone who knows me has observed “the Sneezy effect,” an unmistakable transformation that sparked the day I got in the van.
Last May, I was a burnt out stand-up comic. I was banging my head against the wall, working a soul-sucking day job and producing my own comedy show. Telling jokes to uninterested bar patrons was less about spreading joy and more about surviving the set.
Then my comedy friend offered me $50 to work the merch table for his band. Danny had been different since he started playing with Sneezy, showing up in weird costumes to the open mics, free falling and improvising the strangest jokes. Total confidence shift. I was curious who could have out-goofied this goofball.
I had few expectations. I expected bits, maybe a silly hat or a couple colorful outfits. I didn’t expect a mind-blowing musicality that had me singing along to songs I was hearing for the first time. I got embarrassed during “Smile” because I was showing off my teeth so hard that it was ruining my cool girl facade. Way too chalant. I hadn’t laughed so hard in a long time, and I was doing comedy every night.
Before Sneezy, I always had to pretend to like my friends’ bands. Then I went to my first Sneezy show, and I didn’t have to pretend. I was instantly uplifted by unpretentious, feel good music. It was medicine for me, a performer trying to take herself seriously and feeling very very bad.
The next gig was challenging— technically demanding, underprepared venue, all night drive. Sneezy was unfazed. Business as usual for friends who’ve been pulling off live shows for over a decade. My first impression was talent. The next impression was a relentless work ethic.
The musicians who’d just blown my mind with talent humbly rolled in every instrument, prop, and piece of gear. Incredible efforts were placed on getting everyone on the same page, communicating with grace. What was the deal with these grown men who told each other about their feelings and worked through stress? Why would these total strangers care about making sure I was comfy, fed and having fun? What was this Sneezy magic and how could I get more?
Just get in the van. That was the prescription: come camping with us, just get in the van. Sneezy invited me to a music festival as my third gig. I’d never been to a music festival, and I hadn’t been camping since I was a little kid. No one shamed me for my lack of experience. Instead, I was folded into the funky family. Jack tossed me cigarettes. Brett fed me sausage. Austin made sure I knew where the bathrooms were. Tom showed me which dogs to pet. Destiny taught me about wook culture. Koz and I swapped notes on favorite stand-up comics. Where I expected chaos and debauchery, I was met with generosity, collaboration and peaceful communion with nature.
The whole band came to watch me do a comedy set. People who had just mega-impressed me with their talent immediately validated mine. My comedy material is dark and personal, and none of these sunshiney people dismissed or hid from it. I felt like I was bleeding out, on and off stage. Sneezy agreed my story and jokes could change the world. They not only listened to me talk, but cry at length about the darkness. I left Chicago that weekend hoping for a change of scenery. I came back changed completely, seen clearly by fresh sets of eyes.
I was with someone at the time who was worried I’d cheat on him at the festival. It wasn’t another man he needed to worry about — it was six men, and the ballsiest lady I’d ever met. The strength of their friendships showed me that I could live a different kind of life, one where I didn’t betray my big dreams wasting time on toxic substances and people. Instead of a romantic affair, I was embraced with a more potent kind of love. I got home from the festival, left him and quit drinking.
In the past eleven months, I’ve become a different person. I am so joyous and boisterous on stage that people still think I am talking about sobriety as a joke. I must be doing an elaborate bit, drunk off my ass, to be smiling this hard. Nope. High on music, friendship and crying to the trees. The Sneezy Effect.
Now you know why a merch girl would put fingers to keyboard with this much passion. Every time I meet a member of Boogie Nation, I know my story is not unique. The love in this band radiates to everyone who hears them.
We are halfway through our fundraiser for a new van. Getting in the van helped me heal in incredible ways this year, and I see that healing reflected back at every Sneezy show.
Thank you for sharing these wonderful, uplifting posts. You've brought a lot of sunshine into the van with you.