It hasn’t happened often, but more than once an open mic I showed up for failed to show up for itself.

Once, I drove 900 miles from North Carolina to Maine to tick off what would’ve been my northeastern-most open mic ever. The night before, they posted about it on Facebook.

The night of, the stage (and my face) looked like this.

So it goes sometimes with labor-of-love events.

No one’s making money usually, except maybe the venue, which might bring in a bit more in coffee or beer sales than they would have on an ordinary weeknight. (Open mics only rarely fall on Friday or Saturday evenings for obvious reasons.)

Sometimes the venue books something else on top of them with short notice.

Before my own open mic found our current venue back in 2017, we were a this Irish bar and restaurant. Then we got bumped one night for World Cup soccer and again a few months later — permanently — for something called Beer and Banjos.

Big. Giant. Sigh.

So before you take a $15 Uber to a new open mic (let alone drive through eight states), do the legwork:

• Double check its Facebook page, Instagram, and/or latest Meetup post.
• Post a question to confirm.
• Email the host.
• Call the venue to make sure it’s still a going concern.

It’s no guarantee, but it’ll shore up your odds.

Or, if negative capability is your thing, roll the dice and just show up.

You might find yourself reading poems to the bartender or sitting in a friendly reading circle with 5 other poets who didn’t get the memo, making a night of it anyway.