The heat of summer had yet to go and found itself hanging in the stuffy air of Cole Field House late on Saturday night. Its presence was not common at shows put on by Student Entertainment Events, a group that often chooses to bring comedy to the University of Maryland at cooler times a few months down the road. But this was the Trevor Noah Labor Day special, an early gift to a student body that had just tasted its first dose of classes. The show arrived at the tail end of a week of excitement for some, nerves for others and a potent mix of both for many, and by the end of the night, it seemed like the perfect way for everyone in attendance to exhale after such a stretch.

Because Trevor Noah was funny. The 31-year-old South African set to replace Jon Stewart as host of The Daily Show on Comedy Central in a matter of weeks paced about on stage with energy and confidence, never providing a clearly pleased crowd a chance to catch its breath.

The constant flow of laughter was  broken up occasionally by a gasp or two as Noah walked the PC wire in a way that would make Stewart proud, talking about issues such as police brutality and Oscar Pistorius with enough intelligence and emotion to make a point.

“Even though he was making a joke, there was still so much truth,” freshman computer science major Olawunmi Togun said. “It was thought-provoking.”

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Before the show began, Cole’s rows were covered with the sight of fluttering fans, momentary relief from the heat SEE had given out to the near-4,000 attendees. Down on the floor, sophomore electrical engineering major Matt Brundin didn’t really know what he was in for.

“He’s replacing Jon Stewart, I think? So hopefully he’s funny. I’m just here because Brian wanted to go,” he said, pointing to the laughing student seated beside him.

Brian, bringer of friends and a big Noah fan, took the credit. When asked what he hoped the show would bring that night, he pointed to the two classmates on either side of him.

“I just want these guys to laugh,” he said.

Junior chemistry major Brian Romero was focused more on the comedy as he stood in line for water before the show.

“There’s still a sense of trying to get in on the Trevor Noah ground floor,” he said. “We can say we knew him at the bottom.”

Whether “the bottom” is the right way to describe Noah’s fortunes right now is questionable. As he took the stage Saturday night, Big Sean’s “Blessed” blared from the speakers, and the song choice seemed spot on. Noah is soon to encounter almost guaranteed stardom when he takes a seat behind The Daily Show’s desk. He got the job over many rumored names that held more weight in the States than his,  so his current standing can most certainly be described as “blessed.”

Romero got his water and took a seat. Minutes later, opener Angelo Lozada took the stage and mitigated some of the heat with laughter.

“We’re gonna have a real good time,” he said. “And we’re gonna ignore the fact that it is hot as hell right now. All these fans — it looks like Sunday church out there.”

After a few minutes of mostly crowd work, Lozada left the stage and the applause for him was quickly hushed with anticipation for the headliner. While many students, like Brundin, expressed some doubt before the show as to who Noah was or what he could bring to a set, the crowd was speckled with what seemed like a larger number of nonstudents than a standard SEE event. Their passion for Noah shined through, as the mood in Cole seemed familiar with the comedian from the start. Nothing had to be proven, and the laughs came easily all night.

Wearing a black jacket with leather sleeves, dark jeans and all-white sneakers, Noah was at ease on stage.

“The only thing I knew about Maryland before this show was The Wire,” he said.

His material was intelligent, quick and fairly simple. A long joke about being pulled over by a cop on one of his first trips to the United States had the right mix of satire and silliness to make the crowd laugh and think. Without ever really getting personal, Noah made his 75-minute set feel intimate and brisk.

“The material was original, and even with the controversial stuff, the students accepted it,” said Naitik Thanki, SEE’s comedy director. “The jokes were good enough for that.”

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The show ended with a standing ovation. As the crowd turned to the exits, a video board at the front of the arena announced SEE would bring comedian Hannibal Buress to the campus in November for the Homecoming Comedy show. The event surely will be the last by SEE in historic Cole, as construction is set to begin the next month. It was an exciting cap to what could only be considered a successful night for the student-run programming board.

As people filed out, a group of freshmen lingered in front of the stage, waiting for the lines to shorten. Having just finished their first week of college, the excitement of the show and perhaps all that would follow it showed on their faces.

“It was a great time,” dance major Amanda Hodgetts said. Turning to her friend, she added, “He was crying the entire time.”

The crier, computer science major Pierce Robson, looked at the ground with slight embarrassment showing through.

“Yeah there was something about it,” he said, his voice trailing off. “Really fun.”

Minutes later, the old building sat mostly empty. But many in the crowd did not leave yet, choosing instead to stay and talk in the shadow of Cole. It was the middle of the first weekend of school, and they buzzed about in the cool night air, chatting with friends old and new, temporarily postponing the short trip home.