Last week, my improv team The Last Train Home crammed clown-car style into my Mazda and headed out into the desert for The Torch Theater’s Ghost Fest improv marathon. It was a whirlwind 36 hours, highlighted by spectacularly tasty and dangerous diner food, a bearded dragon, getting hopped up on candy and malt liquor, and a prodigal daughter returning home story. Our set, which came at the tail end of the festival, was a little bit sleep drunk and uneven, but ratcheted up to a pretty good crescendo at the end. Here it is, in its full weirdness:
