It was an unusually warm night in late October when I threw on my faded denim jacket and worn-out Converse to make my way toward Comedy Bar on the Danforth for the first time. Wedged between an unassuming cigar shop and a residential building with plain, grey-scale facades, the massive sign that spans the venue is hard to miss. “Comedy Bar” sits across the top in glowing red letters. Details on the headliners, showtimes, and website shine below, framed in beaming yellow show lights. As I walked toward the illuminated sign, I thought about the first comedy show I attended. I was in my early twenties, struggling to get through…