After Conan taped his last show for TBS last week, staffers and stage crew lingered in The Largo’s courtyard for a semi-impromptu goodbye party. The bar next door provided cocktails and Roy Choi’s famous Kogi food truck was parked outside. I saw dozens of people that I hadn’t seen since before the Covid lockdown so it was a bittersweet mix of Hello, Hooray! and Goodbye.
One of those people was Roey Hershkovitz. He was the music producer who oversaw the guest band segments back when CONAN had bands on the show. That’s Roey blazing a vape pen menorah on the show for a sketch I wrote in 2017.
(And just for fun, here’s a drawing of the vape pen menorah as I first imagined it. I scanned and emailed this 3x5 card to the the Props and Special Effects departments so they could see what I had in mind.)
Drawing of vape pen for Props and SPFX depts. (J. Arroyo)
At the party, I found myself telling Roey about my decision to leave late-night writing to explore jobs in scripted comedy, and how nervous I was about it.
“The Conan job was this rocket booster of steady income and familiar writing assignments,” I said. “After today, the Conan rocket booster falls away, and then I’m just this capsule that’s hurtling toward an unknown future. Who knows where I’ll wind up, or when?”
Roey thought about it for a second and then shook his head. “No, Jose. You’re the whole rocket.”
Wow.
Yes! That’s just what I needed to hear.
Thanks, Roey.
(Look, I know this anecdote might come across as corny and simplistic. Maybe you had to be there. Maybe you have to be me. Also, it’s none of your business how often this week—as I slogged through the 7th draft of my pilot sitcom—I heard myself muttering “I’m the whole rocket.”)