Gallagher-ized: A report from the trenches of comedy combat

Shane Gammon

Friday, Aug. 1, 1997 | 9:37 a.m.

There is nothing like winning free show tickets at the age of 12, but I never thought I would be the victim of Gallagher's "Rite of Passage to Manhood."

It all began when I was that lucky caller one night during a radio call-in contest. After all, as a seventh-grader at the time, my life was nothing more than listening to my radio. I knew more lyrics than I did math problems.

I won two tickets to his performance at the Stardust.

It was quite the controversy on whether I should be allowed to attend his performance. The Stardust was scared that Gallagher would be, perhaps, a bit much for a 12-year-old. They gave in after my mom convinced them I was a mature young man.

The excitement bubbled up in me since this was my first Las Vegas show. After bragging to my whole school, I was ready to get dressed up and "hit the Strip."

As we entered the Stardust, I saw a line stretching out of the theater. But, with my VIP tickets, mom and me, of course, entered right away.

After seeing who Gallagher really was, we decided that the clothes we were wearing were too nice to be dressed up in an assortment of Gallagher's favorite fruits. We were seated at a table with three other people. The table was right up the steps from the main floor.

Before the performance started, one of the hotel's hosts walked up and whispered to my mom.

I ignored it because my eyes were fixed on the cocktail waitresses (a 12-year-old, after all, is almost a teenager).

Then the performance began. Gallagher started with stand-up. Then watermelons started smashing and the crowd cheered. Sliced watermelon rings were flung, one of which hit above our table and showered down on top of us. Fine. Whenever he told a joke, I was laughing, whether I understood it or not.

Then the shock came.

Gallagher announced my name to the audience and asked me to come up on stage. I was really nervous and looked to my mom, but she was smiling and told me to go up there. So I went.

Uh-oh.

People were cheering as Gallagher announced that it was my turn to receive the "Rite of Passage to Manhood." He explained that there were three tests -- courage, "handling a woman" and a test of my strategy.

Gallagher told me to stand on top of a big box -- which I had to crawl up on -- and then a strobe light started flashing. He rallied the crowd as he pulled an anchor out of his treasure chest. He announced that I had to prove I was a man by not being scared of the anchor as it swung in front of me.

My hands started to tremble, but I stood my ground as the anchor came closer and closer until I felt the air pushed against my face. Then he announced that I had passed the test -- and hit me with the anchor.

Turned out to be only foam.

The audience started yelling my name and rooting me on. Gallagher asked me to continue standing on the box for my second test.

He proclaimed that I needed to learn how to "handle a woman" and gave me a huge vibrating watermelon. I had to hold onto it for three minutes and not let go. The watermelon was slippery and kept jumping around, but somehow, I was able to keep it in my arms.

Now for my third and final test. Gallagher rolled out a blown-up, clear plastic ball, about 6 feet tall, with a hole in the center. A doughnut. He explained that I had to crawl inside of the ball, run, make the ball roll for a full rotation, and land back on my feet. He then demonstrated it for the crowd and said if I could do it, he would give me $40.

The cheering began. A man in the first row was yelling, "Go Shane!" I crawled into the plastic ball and while standing in it I held it up so I could run.

After gaining enough speed, I pushed myself forward and started rolling. I could hear the audience screaming louder and louder as the ball rolled -- half-way ... three-quarters of the way ... I was just about back on my feet when the ball stopped rotating and, with my feet dangling out the top, rolled back to the half-way point.

I was stuck upside-down in a plastic ball.

The audience was hysterical.

Peering out of the ball, I saw Gallagher continuing his show, oblivious to me. So I started kicking my feet and trying to sway the ball back and forth to get out.

The crowd laughed harder.

I sat there in silence, still struggling to get out. For 10 minutes. Finally Gallagher returned, knocked on the ball and asked how I was doing. Tipping the ball over, he let me loose.

As I crawled out of the ball, he made a vulgar crack about how I looked like a baby during childbirth, then yelled out: "Hey mom, does this look familiar?"

Gallagher rewarded my rebirth with congratulations for being a good sport -- plus $20. Not $40.

But even at discount rates, it pays to be Gallagher-ized.