The Kindness of Strangers

My accident was scary. Not just for me, but for everyone who was there that night. At the end of the show, one of the artists burst into tears. Another seemed shaken for days afterward and cut some of the trickier moves out of her act. Another didn't even want to talk about it. It was just too horrible.

But out of all that, came some incredible and unexpected acts of kindness. As soon as the next morning, the office was already fielding calls about how I was doing. They received a very angry e-mail saying that it was nothing short of disgraceful that the show kept going after I fell, that they should be ashamed, and that the writers left at intermission in protest. I appreciate the gesture, but I agree that the show must go on.

But most touching of all is that complete strangers started sending me cards wishing me well and a speedy recovery. I even got a little plant with a Get Well Soon balloon.

And the night of the finale, I had two people come up to me and explain that they were in the audience in Zurich the night I fell. They wanted to know how I was doing and were so happy to see that I was back on stage.

What happened was terrible, but there were some really beautiful moments that spiraled out of it. Most of all, the night I came back...

The Fall

It was the end of the run of shows in Zurich. There were about three and a half weeks left of the tour. We were all tired by this point, almost eight months on tour with only a three day holiday will do that to you. But we had to keep going, so keep going we did.

I remember feeling tired that day, like when you don't sleep very well. That tiredness that is not only physical, but mental as well. And that's when I screwed up.

I was doing my act and things were going well until the salto. To do a front salto out of the German wheel you have to duck under the cross bar and then jump up, pushing off the plates, to execute the flip. Only I didn't clear the bar. Not even a little bit. I jumped head first into that bar but my body was in salto mode, and I tried to rotate automatically.

I remember things going white for about an instant, then thinking that this was really embarrassing. I realized I was not going to be landing on my feet and tried to break the fall as best I could. Apparently, in that moment, the best I could do was landing right on my sacrum.

I tried to get up and for the first time in my life, was unable to. That was worrisome. At that point I resigned myself to the fact that I would not be finishing my act that day and would need help getting off stage. I don't think I was in shock. Maybe I was. At any rate, I was very calm and simply waited.

The only problem was that the musicians were still playing. I remember laying there thinking "If you don't stop playing, no one will know to come for me..."

Because the Universe can sometimes be kind, my boyfriend was the first one at my side. He was doing the lights that night and had run down from the booth. He knelt down beside me and said "There's blood..."

My act was one of the only ones in the show where there is no one else on stage. I later learned that the artists realized something was wrong when my wheel rolled backstage and hit someone who was standing near the curtain.

The circus director, his son, and one of the jugglers appeared by my side. I felt okay until they tried to move me. It was excruciating. I thought my sacrum was going to split in two. The put me on a board, not a spinal board (they really should get one of those) but one of the big planks that they use around the site.

I think that's when I started crying. I felt humiliated as they carried me offstage. I kept appologizing.

There was a doctor in the audience (and also a famous Swiss writer whom the workers are convinced will incorporate my accident into one of his books) who came backstage to check on me. "I'm a pediatrician!" he said, "But still a doctor!"

He was super friendly, held my hand, stroked my hair...

The police arrived and started asking all kinds of questions. They photographed my wheel and wanted to go photograph things on stage. The circus director was furious and refused. The show, after all, was still going on and the public had already been traumatized enough.

Later the police would ask if my wheel had been sabotage. "No, no. It was entirely my fault." I also had the first breathalyzer test of my entire life.

I was taken to hospital by ambulance. They gave me pain killers that made the ceiling move. With great difficulty, they managed to get my costume off ("How do you even get this on?"), but were unable to remove my bra. After what seemed like a million years, I went for x-rays. I told the x-ray tech that I still had my bra on. The doctor, a cocky Italian chap, replied, "I can get it off."

He could not.

The x-rays came back clean, but I was unable to sit up. Worse, when I tried to stand, I couldn't put any weight on my left leg. I couldn't walk.

I went for a CT and that came back clean too. By this time, it was about 4am.

I spent the night at the hospital. The director of artists kept texting to see how things were going. She asked if she could get me anything. I asked for a time machine.

Remember how my boyfriend mentioned that there had been blood? I though he meant a trickle. As it turns out, I left a small puddle on stage. Only no one realized it at the time and so the next scene saw all the artists dancing through my blood. I'm told it was horrible. I believe it. Someone had to come on stage and wipe up my blood. Meanwhile, I got the first stitches of my entire life.

I went back to the circus the next day. I could barely walk, but I would be okay. My hair was still matted with blood and when I showered, it looked like the scene from Psycho.


For a while, it was unsure whether or not I would even be able to make it back into the show. But I did. Oh, but I did...

47km to Ruin

It was not a good day for transport.

In fact, I’d be willing to bet that it was one of the worst transports ever.

The director of the circus not only clipped something on route to the new town, but he also got a 240 franc speeding ticket.

One of the workers also clipped something, and later, almost run over a cyclist.

A tire blew on one of the vehicles.

Oh yeah, and this:

 
A tractor trailer, apparently fed up of constantly getting stuck behind members of our slow going circus convoy, decided to over take the car and caravan. He passed them so quickly the suction caused the the caravan to swerve uncontrollably and... well... you can see the result for yourself.

No one was hurt and the caravan will likely be sent to that great big trailer park in the sky.

A Dark Day

It is a dark day for the circus community as a whole as we mourn the loss of acrobat Sarah Guyard-Guillot. Sarah was working on Cirque du Soleil's KÀ in Las Vegas and suffered a fatal fall on Saturday night.

When I began my circus career, all I wanted was "to be in the circus". I admit, I didn't really understand what that meant. I knew I liked to flip and fly. I knew I liked to perform. The circus seemed like the perfect vehicle for that. After one week of school, I injured my shoulders to the extent that I had to sit out of the majority of my classes for a month and a half.

In other words, I quickly learned it's not all sequins and applause. The work is physically demanding and takes it's toll on the body. A lapse in concentration, not getting enough sleep, a "stupid mistake", and any other number of things could result in an accident. Not only is it not all sequins and applause, it can be downright dangerous.

The more time passed, the more I saw my classmates get injured. Since graduating, I have had a few of my friends suffer very frightening and serious accidents. And even then, there's a part of you that tries to forget that, if only to make it possible to continue going on stage yourself.

I'm a big chicken and incredibly demanding when it comes to things that most find quite trivial. The state of the floor is vital to my ability to work safely. Water, debris, and or an uneven surface can be very dangerous for me. I've always insisted even though people make fun of me or roll their eyes. But I know what can happen. Safety first. And while I sometimes feel a little ashamed to insist on a mat for something like static trapeze, as though it makes me less of a real aerialist, I know that it only takes one fall...

Be it traditional, modern, or contemporary circus... Whether you're from the world of burlesque, a former world champion gymnast, or a small town kid who made their dream come true... It doesn't matter. From the tiniest big top in the middle of nowhere to the biggest spectacle in a theatre on the Vegas strip, we're all a part of the same family. Once you start on this journey of circus, you forever become a part of something greater than yourself and you gain a family in every corner of the world. The joy, hardship, passion, dedication, and audacity of living the dream... all of this and more connects you more powerfully and profoundly than I could ever hope to express. It can't be helped. And were it not for that connection, that unspoken understanding that you are family, I don't know how any of us would survive.

Today we mourn the loss of one of our own. My heart goes out to her family, her children, and the cast and crew of KÀ. And my heart goes out to you, too. May we all keep a little extra courage and light in our hearts on this sad day.

Read about the accident here and here.

A memorial page for Sarah (Sasoun) can be found here.

Frigthening Reminder

My very first circus history class, our teacher asked us what we thought of when we thought of the circus. There was a chorus of "Trapeze!", "Clowns!", and "The chapiteau!". Our teacher looked at us and said one word: death.

I woke up this morning to news that a member of my immediate circus community had an accident on stage. I'm still unclear on the details, but it would seem that the acrobat in question fell on his neck while performing an acrobatic figure of some kind. He's broken some vertebrae in his neck. We're waiting to see what will come next.

A few of my friends have had serious accidents on stage, and this isn't even the first time someone I know has broken their neck. And you would think that having your friend in a coma for months would wake you up to just how dangerous your career choice really is. But the truth is, you quickly fall back into the habit of taking it for granted that you're good at what you do, you're well trained, and that things like that happen to other people, not you.

I suspect a lot of that is a defense mechanism. How could you possibly go on stage night after night if all you could think about is how it could very possibly be the last thing you do? I know there are moments where I see myself falling off the stage, crushing audience members and doing all kinds of damage to myself. But if I didn't push those thoughts aside and focus on what I need to do, it would paralyze me.

But the reality is that this job is dangerous and accidents do happen. Every time we step on stage we take a risk. All it takes is a momentary slip in concentration, a miscalculation, having an "off day", or worst of all, someone else's bad call. Sometimes, you don't even know the why and the how of it.

It's a terrible thing when you have to be reminded of that in such a way as this.

Our thoughts and positive energy are with him, and we wish him a speedy recovery.

For those of us who have to step into the ring, be safe.

The Dramatic Climax

For those who've been following, its no secret that the contract here in California has been less than stellar. Well, it looks like after an unexpected plot twist, this story has reached its peak.

I've been fired!

But before that happened, my wheel was destroyed!

Isn't life grand?

Normally, my number ends with me doing a front salto out of the wheel. My wheel is then caught by a fellow cast member and the show winds down. Only yesterday, said fellow cast member forgot to go out and catch the wheel.

Hearing the groan of the crowd, I turned just in time to see my wheel plummet from the stage. The freakishly high stage. A vision that will likely haunt me for some time.

As you can imagine, after seeing my wheel drop 2.5m, I was somewhat full of rage. White, blinding rage. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I just knew I needed to get out of there before I killed someone.

I stormed off.

I really think that just about anyone in this situation, having their livelihood destroyed, would have done the same. Once I calmed down, I returned and apologized for my behaviour. I believe in maintaining a certain level of professionalism, but I really blew my gasket. That wheel is my source of income, my first major purchase, and a highly specialized and expensive piece of equipment. Now, it is a piece of junk that I can't even work on.

That evening, I was called in by the producer and told that because of the stir I had caused (for some reason the park decided to call in security), I would be let go. Personally, I think security was called in more because they realized that if my wheel had landed on someone, they'd be in far deeper doo doo.

So there you go. I've been given my out. I can leave this godforsaken place and go home. The company I was working for will cover a certain percentage of the cost of a new wheel and cover the fee for changing my flight. I just hope I can get all this shit sorted out quickly. I have no desire to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary.

Of course, now I can't train between now and September and will be horribly unprepared to continue the tour in France.

Somebody get me out of here.

It's Alright! I Broke the Fall With My Face!

T'was the night before the premiere and the second of a set of seven shows. After three run throughs without an audience (so hard), we had the welcomed presence of the theatre employees seated in the public. The show starts, things move along as they always do... intro, wheel, trampoline, Bacon... when suddenly, A. starts the big drop in his number, loses contact with his straps and hits the stage head* first!

Might I add that I am seated on stage directly behind him during that drop? And that A. is an incredibly stubborn young man? Seriously, dude hit the floor hard and instead of stopping, he insisted on finishing his act! Frankly, there is a line between perseverance and stupidity. And considering how out of it he was after smashing head first into the floor, and that it wasn't even a real performance, and that we had the premiere the next night, he should have stopped.

The good news is, he didn't do the trampoline number. The bad news is, he didn't leave directly to the hospital to get checked. He did go eventually, but got antsy and left.

Did I mention he fell head first onto a hard wood floor?

Argh!

Fortunately, he was okay. We all feared we would have to redo the entire show in the morning so that it would work without him for the premiere that night. But the circus gods smiled upon him (and us) and everything turned out okay. Never have you heard such a collective sigh of relief.

But there is one good thing to come out of all this.

The video footage is a hoot!**




* Later accounts suggest that it may in fact have been ear first.

** I don't actually like to watch videos of people getting badly hurt. But the laughter coming from those who do suggest that the video is quite amusing.