Hey you. Yes, you. Thanks for coming to this.

I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Distinctly unfamous comedians aren't usually afforded the opportunity to perform their solo shows in places surrounded by a moat, so.

Real quick, a little about Just For Us. I started writing it in 2018 in a house on Beachwood Canyon. It’s based on stuff that happened in 1995, 1996, 2012-2013, 2016, 2021 and, most notably, on a Tuesday night in the winter of 2017. It was conceived as all three of my solo shows have been: over a beer, across from my director Adam Brace.

It incubated at Melbourne Comedy Festival in Australia, the Edinburgh Fringe in Scotland, the Soho Theatre in London, and at Los Angeles comedy/storytelling shows like Uncabaret. Those will sound like just proper nouns, but they represent warm audiences, wonderful staffs, well-made cappuccinos, and folks who took shots on a show that was not yet a Broadway offering.

This is a solo show—but it doesn’t belong to me only. Mike Birbiglia, the unquestioned master of the comedy-theatre blend and the original presenter of the show in New York, gave me several loving pushes in the right direction. I owe gratitude to dozens of friends, peers and comedy heroes for their encouragement and thoughts. The conversations I’ve had with audience members after shows—about identity, community, transgression, civility, empathy and more—have had a very real impact on its content.

Most of all, I am deeply indebted to Brace—a rugby-loving genius equal parts gentle and gruff. And without whom I have no idea what I’ll do next. Adam passed away unexpectedly at 43 about six weeks before our Broadway run started. He was my closest collaborator for more than a decade and, most importantly, a friend who understood me better than just about anyone and still somehow liked me.

Adam liked to say that the show was an 85-minute wrestling match with a single question: What is our place in the world?

The events of these past few weeks have made that question feel more urgent. There are long stretches where it takes up my entire field of vision. But I’ve found comfort in the practice of doing the show, and I like that practice. It’s a pursuit of understanding through the two things I love the most: comedy and overpriced downtown parking. It—for me—mirrors the Jewish practices that ask us to grapple with concepts that can be both joyous and painful in service of finding a greater truth.

Adam and I laughed so much making this show. I hope it provides a few moments of comfort in these nightmarish times. I hope it can be both a challenge and an escape. And I hope you enjoy it as much as we enjoy putting it together.

Thank you again for being here. Come say hi after.

—Alex Edelman

Photo by Matthew Murphy