Zanies Comedy Night Club

Zanies is the kind of joint that still smells faintly of cigarette smoke and ambition. Low ceilings, tight tables, stage lights warm and just a little too close—it’s intimate in that way where you can see the sweat and read the punchlines before they land. A room made for laughter, where the cheap drinks hit fast and the jokes hit harder.

We were there to see Leah Rudick, sharp as ever—wide-eyed observations delivered with that perfect balance of earnest and unhinged. She made you laugh in that full-body way, like something inside you needed to come loose.

The French dips were messy and glorious, the kind of food you order without pretending you’ll eat it politely. Hot meat, melty cheese, dunked in jus that soaked right through the bun and onto the napkin before the first bite. One of us had a fruity drink in a plastic cup that tasted like vacation. I went with a State Park from Tennessee Brew Works—hoppy, slightly dank, probably brewed with someone’s beard hair and pure Cumberland River water.

It wasn’t refined, but it was real. Zanies doesn’t ask for much. Just show up, laugh loud, eat with your hands, and let the night get a little weird. That’s comedy. That’s Nashville.