In the summer of 1988, I was the opening act in San Diego, Improv for Ellen DeGeneres. The middle act was John Mallacar. These were the days when comedy was so popular we did three shows on a Saturday night. Ellen was a really hot comic and sold out all three shows, even the midnight show, which was tough to do.

In-between the second and third show, Ellen, John and I were hanging at the comics' table as the audience for the second show was filing out.
All of a sudden a loudspeaker, hanging probably 10 feet from above our table, somehow got loose and fell on my head. I toppled over but never actually lost consciousness. I didn't know what hit me. I remembered thinking, "Did someone just punch me?" It was the most excruciating pain. All I heard were muffled sounds, "Hugh, oh my God. Hugh. Is he conscious? What's going on?"

I was on the floor with everyone crowded around me. Someone kept repeating, "Call a medic. He needs to get examined."

The manager of the Improv, this big ex-jock, leaned into me with a different concern, "Hugh, you okay to do the third show?

To be continued...