By Paul Curry

Special to The Courier-Journal

You're not from around here, are you?

Today, the first Saturday in May, odds are pretty good that you're an out-of-towner. And you might well be wondering: Besides attending a certain horse race, what else is there to do in this town?

For answers to that question, we turned to the nomads of the heartland: stand-up comedians.

After all, most of them make their living traveling year-round from town to town, staying in any given city for a week at a time -- just long enough to get the feel of a place.

"We have all day to (putter) around," said David Crowe, a 13-year veteran of the comedy circuit and a temporary resident of some 20-plus cities every year. "We are not being hosted."

So as soon as he's settled into his hotel, he hits the streets and wanders.

"I try to carve out a sense of home in each city, as if I used to live here," said Crowe, a Seattle native. "I see the same people I saw the year before. I look forward to going to my favorite restaurant."

As we talked to traveling comedians, a funny thing happened: It turned out that several of them liked Louisville so well, they ended up resettling here. Some only wish they could.

I'll be here all week

Like a professional tourist, Crowe has an uncanny knack for finding the best any city has to offer. In Louisville, he makes a point to visit Cumberland Brews, where he orders a Nut Brown Ale and the Bison Burger, medium-rare with roasted garlic cloves and Gorgonzola cheese. His regular culinary tour always includes at least one stop at the Bristol Bar & Grille on Bardstown Road for a grilled chicken salad with goat cheese, sundried tomatoes and balsamic vinaigrette.

A diehard Northwesterner, Crowe is unusually enthusiastic about Louisville. "Being from Seattle, my coffee snobbery is off the chart," he said. "I usually have to specify two shots of espresso and so forth, but Heine Bros. does a good job without instructions. You'd be surprised what some coffee shops will try to pass off as coffee."

Crowe's regular stay in Louisville includes at least one other regular stop, the Cherry Bomb.

"I like vintage clothes, but I need for somebody else to rummage through and find the good stuff. You can buy anything there and look at least slightly hip." That is, he added, as long as it fits.

"I found a leisure suit there that was obviously made before AIDS (and the ensuing changes in sexual behavior). The coat fit great, but the pants were so tight, I couldn't squeeze into them. They were supposedly my size, but there was no way I was going to get into them. I bought the jacket." And we can be sure that he is out there somewhere looking at least slightly hip in it.

Setting aside all considerations for commerce, Crowe added that he makes a point to wander through the neighborhoods around the Highlands "drooling over the architecture. We have nothing like that out West. The oldest building in Seattle was built by Boeing in 1912."

Tell your friends

Crowe is so fond of Louisville he has made a habit of suggesting the city as a relocation destination for wannabe comedians. "It's centrally located, with opportunities in any number of cities within five hours in any direction." Not to mention the proving ground that can be found at the Comedy Caravan.

Tim Northern, originally from Nashville, moved here in November for the exact reasons that Crowe advised. "Every time I'd go out to a gig, I'd come through Louisville," he said, so he split the difference and took an apartment here. "I cut two hours off my travel time for almost every trip, and I'm still just two hours from home."

He refers to his stretch of Bardstown Road as being surrounded by "my own little invisible fence." When he's here, he doesn't drive; everything he needs is within walking distance, especially his favorite coffee shop, Heine Bros., which is almost directly across the street from his apartment. Still, he's more impressed by the people. It may have something to do with his natural charisma, but he claims that "everybody around here treats me like a king. They don't know who I am; they're just nice."

Cleveland (not his real name) has lived here since he was 16 years old, when his family relocated from, um, Cleveland. He picked up his nickname from a drill sergeant while serving in the military. Why didn't they call him Louisville? "Man," he said, "the average person outside of Louisville doesn't know where Louisville is. We're barely on the map for the Derby."

Nonetheless, the long-term Ohio transplant swears by his adopted hometown. After his military service was up, he went back to his old hometown. "I hated it," he said, with a renewed sense of shock. "And I grew up there! It was cold, colder than Louisville, and it just didn't feel like home."

It didn't take long for him to head back to Louisville, the city he describes as a "gigantic … hug."

When pressed for tips, Cleveland recommends a stop at Wick's for a pizza "like nobody does anywhere," and Jay's Cafeteria, for a sense of the city's real character.

It's the people, stupid

A more recent transplant, Patrick Spring moved here after being shown around by another local comic, Rich Ragains.

Born and raised in Omaha, Neb., Spring would take gigs none of his colleagues would touch. "For me it was all about doing what nobody else was doing." For that reason, he may be the only Omaha-based comedian to make it as far as Louisville and points beyond.

Having a friend in Louisville helped him decide to move. "When I had an off-week, I'd come stay with Rich and he'd drag me to all the local spots. I wasn't really interested, but we'd be the only people at the Derby Museum in November, and we'd get special attention." Initially impressed by the city's central location, it was ultimately the attitude of the people that sealed the deal.

These days, Spring is semi-retired from the comedy game. After moving here, he met his current wife, Margeaux, and realized that he'd rather find something to do closer to home so he could spend more time with her. Most of the couple's activities involve Margeaux's two children, Jude and Rain. Spring isn't able to hide his enthusiasm for taking Jude to Louisville's Extreme Park; in fact, he may enjoy it more than Jude.

John Hope, another permanent resident-alien, tells an almost identical story: He moved to Louisville for the opportunity to work in comedy, but fell in love with the community.

After living here awhile, he moved to Los Angeles to seek new opportunities. "I had a really nice place with a back porch with one big tree down along the power line. The tree became a metaphor for my homesickness, and then one day, the power company came and cut half of it down. That's when I knew I had to move back."

Shortly thereafter a friend sent him a tape of a live music performance at Headliners Music Hall, "and he had left the tape running for about 30 minutes after the set, so I got to hear all of this bar conversation. I had never felt so homesick in my life.

"L.A. was full of people who were half-human. There were 100,000 people, and I knew seven. Back in Louisville, I knew 700, and nobody is driven by the need to crush others in order to get where you want to be."

Hope returned to a relationship that has become an engagement, and his interest in performing has taken a back seat, although his intention to retire has been interrupted by continuing offers in the region.

With its ideal location, fine restaurants and low cost of living, Louisville may be the perfect destination for the aspiring comedian. But the city's true assets -- big trees, old houses and an easygoing neighborliness -- are just as likely to redirect those ambitions by redefining dreams toward a more traditional sense of happiness. Isn't that funny?