It’s a Friday night and people are lining the block of a bodega near Union Square at the corner of 14th Street and Seventh Avenue.
But the line isn’t for bacon-egg-and-cheeses or packs of cigarettes — it’s full of die-hard comedy fans.
Some regulars greet each other like old friends. Others, first-timers, nervously shuffle into the transformed space with bated breath, ready to partake in the madness.
Bodega Comedy has been hosting twice-monthly shows at bodegas in Brooklyn and Manhattan for nearly two years. Footage from its shows has routinely gone viral online, and on some nights, tickets are sold out days in advance.
‘Say less’
The inside of the shop is a madhouse as the 9 p.m. opening time approaches. Three musicians — a flutist, guitarist and a trumpeter — are tuning instruments in the back corner, careful not to bump into the endless rows of drinks and snacks behind them.
The guitarist — Floyd Ding, 29 — said he first got the gig last summer.
“Say less,” he said when he was pitched on the bodega-turned-event-space project. “I’m down. I go to a bodega every day to get whatever I need. I damn near go to a bodega for seven meals a week.”
Ding said he remembered sweating profusely while setting up his guitar in the kitchen because of the heat emanating from the fryers behind the bodega counter. On another night, the comedy show took place at a bodega two blocks from his apartment — which earned him bragging rights around his neighborhood.
A backdoor behind the counter is the secret hideout for the comedians who will make up the night’s lineup. They use the space to review material or make small talk to quell their nerves.
“I just saw the first batch of clips that went online and thought, ‘Damn. This is really dope. I’m excited to perform,’” said Neel Ghosh, 32, who was preparing to take the stage on a recent evening. “I like things that have New York as a character.”
Comedian Neel Ghosh uses music in his act.
His interview is cut short by the sound of another comedian coming into the backroom to prep — Ethan Mead, 27, who said it was the first time he’d performed at Bodega Comedy.
Mead said he’d also seen clips online, and jumped at the chance to be part of it.
“I’m definitely tweaking a little bit,” he said. “But I’m excited — I want to put on a good show for them.”
Others gather near the cash register, connecting a sound system to the counter, which serves as a stage.
Arjun Ramrup, a native New Yorker born in Brooklyn, waits outside for his girlfriend to arrive. The 31-year-old comedian, who was just a spectator on this night, said he’d never seen a show like this before.
“It’s funny as hell,” he said. “And the ambiance? It just hits different.”
Upon entering, audience members are handed programs — or in this case, menus — that list the night’s lineup of comedians, complete with illustrations of burgers, sandwiches, and fries.
Celia Michaels, a 72-year-old Manhattan native who happened to walk past the bodega on her way to the subway, said she decided to divert her plans for the night.
“I just saw a lot of people here and thought, ‘This looks interesting.’”
Michaels, who was hankering for a bag of chips and a drink before the show, said she had no idea what to expect.
Sandwiched between rows of energy drinks and bags of chips, a crowd of attendees waits for the comedian in the lineup.
Michaels takes her seat, and within minutes, three men walk to the front of the counter to applause: the comedy show’s co-hosts and founders — comedians Christopher Isaacson and Vikrant Sunderlal, 31, along with Sam Boston, 33, who has worked in bodegas for years.
“Is everyone ready for what’s going to happen tonight?” they ask the crowd.
The first act, Ghosh, uses a sound system at the counter to create a catchy beat as he rapped an attendee’s go-to bodega order over auto-tune. The audience roared in applause.
Other comedians come to the makeshift counter-slash-stage to riff with the audience or respond to hecklers. In between each set, Sunderlal and Isaacson head to the front to perform some of their own stand-up.
Halfway through the show, chopped cheese and pita sandwiches are passed out to the audience — including the hungry members of the band.
Sam Boston, one of the hosts of Bodega Comedy, gets a rise out of the crowd as he sets up.
Jessica Walker, 49, who was among those in attendance that night, said went to one of Bodega Comedy’s first shows and has been a consistent presence in the audience ever since.
“I think it’s just a very interesting group of people. It’s just something a little bit different, a little bit out of the ordinary,” she said. She’ll often pick up a bag of Sour Patch Kids while she watches the show and pay afterwards.
Kip Hathaway, 31, said he moved to the city from Minnesota several months ago. He’s been following Bodega Comedy since before he even moved here.
“It was fun seeing a comedian park behind the counter and all the chaos of the snacks, the gum? It’s a very, very fun idea.”
Halfway through the show, chopped cheeses are dished out.
‘What if we did a show at the bodega here?’
A New Yorker's relationship with their bodega guy is sacred — but very few people take it a step further and become business partners. That is, unless you’re Christopher Isaacson.
Shortly after the 28-year-old comedian ditched his D.C. abode for an apartment in Brooklyn Heights, he became a regular at Atlantic Deli and Grill, where he struck up a friendship with one of its owners, Sam Boston.
It started with accepting an invite to celebrate his new pal’s birthday at the bodega. But in no time, Isaacson started hopping over the counter to hang out with Boston and make his own sandwiches.
It was during this same time that Isaacson began borrowing friends’ apartments to host makeshift comedy shows with friend and fellow comedian Sunderlal, also known as Vikrant SC.
But when the pair began running out of apartments to host events, Isaacson turned to his new friend for help.
“He would always invite me to hang out behind the counter with him — which always makes you feel so powerful — and we were just talking about, ‘What if we did a show at the bodega here?’” Isaacson said.
Sunderlal said the trio almost instantly connected.
Their first show took place in December 2023 — and it was a hit.
“I think, philosophically, comedy is about bringing the mundane onto a much grander stage,” Isaacson said. “That’s why it’s been a good fit with the concept of bodegas — because what’s more mundane to a New Yorker than your local deli store?”
And for Boston — who has no comedic experience — jumping into throwing these events at a bodega has been surprisingly fun.
“I think I made the right choice here,” Boston said. “I love everything about this. I love the environment of comedy.”
Hosting follow-up shows became a no-brainer, especially as clips of the performances began collecting hundreds of thousands of likes on TikTok and Instagram.
“I think people are drawn to spontaneity, like the idea that something is just showing up in their city,” Mead said, adding that Bodega Comedy is more approachable because, “Two blocks from me, I can walk into a bodega and watch some schmuck from Brooklyn try his best.”
But that doesn’t mean Bodega Comedy hasn’t had its hiccups. The hosts were forced to move the show from Brooklyn Heights to Manhattan after a disagreement with management at Atlantic Grill & Deli.
Looking ahead, Bodega Comedy has its sights set on a new frontier: Bushwick, Brooklyn.
