The battered wooden front door is open but I stop at the corner, staring at the words painted on the glass front window: Saloon established 1861.

Sounds filter out into the night, laughter, music, people talking, glasses clinking.

My stomach churns, my body thumping with the urge to flee.

No. I’m not running. I’m going to do this.

I force myself to move to the front door and peek inside. Despite the noise, it’s only half full.

Thank the heavens. If it was packed, my willpower might have run away along with the rest of me.

The lighting is dim, which helps. If it’s dark, people can’t see me as clearly and therefore can’t judge my every move and outfit choice. Most of the patrons are in jeans and tees. I tug on the hem of my fancy shirt, beelining to the dark wood bar and the first empty seat I can find.

I perch on a stool, avoiding eye contact with anyone and everyone—especially Alex, who is onstage with a drummer to back him up.

The setup is small, a raised platform in the back of the one-room bar. Along the wall opposite me is a long table lined with more barstools for additional seating.

Once I’m somewhat settled, I manage to swallow past my dry mouth long enough to order a drink from the bartender. A few chords strum through the room.

I swivel around in the stool.

Alex is wearing the same clothes from earlier. The drummer is dressed just as casually, T-shirt and jeans, and he has the biggest, most well sculpted Afro I’ve ever seen.

“Sorry, we’re not as good looking as the Flight of the Conchords,” the drummer says.

“And neither of us has a sexy accent.” Alex strums the guitar along with his words.

“Also we aren’t funny,” his bandmate adds.

I laugh along with a few other patrons, the ones who are paying attention and not chatting or drinking.

“We couldn’t even come up with a band name,” Alex says.

“So we’ve decided to call ourselves Name This Band.”

They segue into a song, a jaunty sea shanty about hats.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it’s not this. They aren’t just a band, they’re a comedy duo.

I sip my drink and take in the show, my focus almost entirely on Alex with only occasional glances at the drummer. Alex is so comfortable there, onstage, singing in front of strangers.

I could never do this.