In First Person Arts' StorySlams, adults tattle on themselves

The last storyteller shambled off the stage, and Eric Thomas, host for the evening, grabbed the mike.

"Such failure in this room! It reeks! I love it!" he yelled.

The crowd - packed into a tiny upper room at L'Etage, a crêperie and bar on Sixth and Bainbridge Streets - cheered wildly. Then they bent over their scorecards. It was time to judge.

Winning over the audience is key at First Person Arts' StorySlams, twice-monthly themed storytelling competitions at which participants have five minutes to tell a personal story - and, more important, tell it well.

The tone onstage Tuesday night? Mostly cringe-worthy - in keeping with this slam's theme, "Epic Fail."

One man talked about getting arrested for marijuana possession outside a gay bar in the Hudson Valley - a few months after getting his license suspended for driving without insurance in Oregon.

"At least the cops were really cute," he said to laughter.

Another told of how his "high school hustle" - showing up hours late for class every other day - was busted when, as he drove lazily around town during school hours, his father pulled up next to him at an intersection.

Squeezed around low tables, eating crepes at the bar, leaning against the walls, the audience laughed, cheered, and judged performers on a 10-point scale for content and presentation.

Two "official" judges are picked from the audience to accompany one guest judge. Their scores determine the night's overall winner. The rest of the audience's scores determine the audience favorite, announced the next day.

The overall winners get the "Golden Ticket" - an invitation to the biannual Grand Slam, where they'll compete against winners from each slam for the title of "Best Storyteller in Philadelphia."

Some judges are harsher than others.

"I'm not happy with my score at all. I'm a very competitive person - I want to have words with that judge!" joked Abby Scheuermann, the first storyteller of the night. She earned only a five for content and five for presentation from one judge - one of the night's lowest scores.

Katonya Mosley, the judge in question, said engaging with the audience is vital to a high score. The best stories, she said, are not necessarily the most epic.

Mosley, a slam veteran, once won a slam with a story about how her father won the lottery but kept his jackpot a secret from the family.

"We found out through Jet magazine," she said, laughing. She's been participating in slams since May 2008 and now teaches workshops for First Person Arts on the side.

The arts organization started holding slams four years ago. The sessions have become so popular that this year the group is hosting twice as many competitions. L'Etage is the traditional home of the event, which expanded this year to the World Cafe Live on Walnut Street.

Thomas, the evening's host, who has won four slams himself, said First Person Arts' events have "exploded" in the past few years.

"It's a great organization, but at first there wasn't a lot of community presence," he said. "Now I'm doing three events for them this month alone."

Thomas kept the audience entertained during breaks and handed out prizes to participants. He says he's heard everything from powerful, engaging stories to gross-out tales to yarns that just fell flat: "Sometimes I'm just like - what is this, Macbeth? They're so dramatic! You'd be surprised how many disgusting things people talk about - animal carcasses, hunting accidents. We get a lot of doctors who tell stories. It makes me never want to go into a hospital again."

The grossest story Tuesday night? By far Joseph Lavin's unprintable tale of a decidedly awkward encounter with a female friend at a party his freshman year in college.

"Gay man, first vagina, epic fail," he concluded as the crowd cheered. He scored a perfect 10 from two judges.

People tend to open up at slams - telling stories that are intensely personal or just plain embarrassing. Maybe it's the intimate atmosphere. Maybe it's a crowd willing to laugh or applaud just about anything.

"There's lots of support at these events for taking steps to show who you are," said Vicki Solot, First Person Arts' founder and executive director.

Take Meghan Walsh, 26, of South Philadelphia, who ended up winning the night with a story about accidentally eating a paper plate at a garden party. At the end of her five minutes onstage, she admitted she'd promised herself she'd never share the story with anyone.

Even audience members are prone to overshare. When Thomas jokingly asked a couple in the front row how long they'd been married, the woman grabbed his microphone and whispered, "I am married, but not to him."

The crowd went wild. Thomas let out a whoop.

"Good for you," he said. "You're going to get it on in the bathroom now, aren't you?"

All joking (and infidelities) aside, founder Solot said the slams create "instant intimacy."

"If this was just a drinking thing, no one would interact," she said. "But they get up, and they share a little piece of their lives. It makes us all richer."

Sitting at the bar, Jake Bowling, 24, of Northern Liberties, agreed. It was only his second slam, he said, and he was looking forward to hearing a new crop of storytellers.

"It's hilarious and authentic. The themes are really great," he said, between bites of a crepe. "And the crepes aren't bad, either."