A business major named Evan steps up to the microphone to ask Ferrell a question. ''I was wondering if you'd smoke a blunt with me after the concert,'' he says with a heavy-lidded grin. At nearly every show, Ferrell gets a variation of this query, despite being a middle-aged man and father of two small sons who isn't known to ingest anything stronger than beer.
As the crowd howls, Ferrell regards Evan with a quizzical look. ''What kind of cannabis are we talking about?'' he asks. ''Because I only smoke medical-grade marijuana. For my glaucoma.'' He pauses a beat. ''Do you have glaucoma? You should contract it. It's fantastic.''
Eventually, the show comes to a climax, as it does every night, with Ferrell, looking like an overgrown reject from some Eastern European boy band in tight black Capezio dance pants, Ugg boots, and a formfitting red shirt, leading a rousing rendition of Alicia Keys' anthem ''No One.'' ''It's been an amazing night,'' he tells the crowd. ''We didn't just make people laugh. We changed lives.''
It's past 11 by the time he gets onto the bus for the drive to Boston, where the tour will play tomorrow night at Boston College. (The road trip wraps up in New York on Feb. 24.) Outside, snow has begun to fall. Ferrell opens a bottle of Guinness and spoons some take-out Chinese food onto a plastic plate for a late-night snack. The consensus is that the food smells foul. Some other star, fatigued from several draining days on the road, might throw a tantrum and demand finer cuisine. Ferrell just makes a joke out of it. ''Welcome to Diapers,'' he says. ''May I take your order?''
Even under close observation, Ferrell demonstrates no preening self-importance. ''He's like a Zen comedian,'' says Semi-Pro costar Woody Harrelson. ''He doesn't display any ego whatsoever.'' Nor does he seem to be driven by the neuroses and neediness assumed to be an essential part of any successful comedian's psychic tool kit — a fact he seems to find much less interesting than everyone else. ''I guess people with massive egos analyze things like that, but I don't,'' Ferrell says. '''He's so mild-mannered and just borderline boring' — I mean, if you're looking for Robin Williams, you're not going to find him. Everyone has their moments, for sure. But I'm a firm believer that you can be relatively normal and still have crazy comedic thoughts.''
NEXT PAGE: ''I want to guard against being in a situation where, you know, I'm on Mr. Belvedere and it's like, 'What happened to that guy? He was really funny, but now he's the butler on that show?' I'd rather just not be doing comedy anymore.''
