Having nearly completed the season, I think I can say with some authority that the Swiss public has a tendency to get lost. Maybe not lost, but certainly a little turned around. Which I must admit, I find rather interesting. I know we're in a tent, not a theatre, but there's still a pretty clear divide between where the seats are and where backstage is. It should be pretty clear that if you need to go on stage and through a curtain, that probably isn't the exit. And yes, that did happen.
Also, there was this lady.
During a matinee a father and his sons decided that the best way to exit the tent was by just going underneath the tent wall near the artist entrance. Before the show even finished, I might add.
There was also the very curious moment during warm-up when a man stuck his head in the tent opening in the backstage and just smiled and stared at us. We said hello and asked if we could help him. He just kept smiling and looking about and then after a minute or so popped his head back out.
Weird...
But my favourite would have to be the time when a father and his daughter sat down with a bag of popcorn and watched while we were getting ready backstage. It happens all the time that people walk around the tent and check out what's going on, but at this point, the show had already started. Instead of sitting in the tent and watching the actual show, this man and his daughter decided to watch the few of us who weren't on stage yet as we did arm circles and stretched our quads...
It seems we've gotten off pretty easy this year, though. Apparently one time a man was found in the laundry room washing his own clothes while trying to steal other people's clothes. This was a particularly ludicrous situation as the pants he was trying to pass
off as his were the official work pants of the circus, complete with
circus logo and the name of the owner sewn in. And while in Zurich last year, a man was found in the kitchen one morning after having eaten so much he was laying in a pool of his own vomit...
And people think circus folk are the ones to be weary of...
Showing posts with label show 2. Show all posts
Showing posts with label show 2. Show all posts
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Friday, October 11, 2013
Overheard Backstage
To his partners right before doing their act:
"Oh my god... I just peed a little... Can you see it? Can you see it? Oh my god... I hope it's just in my underwear..."
"Oh my god... I just peed a little... Can you see it? Can you see it? Oh my god... I hope it's just in my underwear..."
Saturday, October 5, 2013
May I Help You?
The first act of the second half of the show had just come to an end and we were all coming on stage to tear down the equipment. As I made my way toward the stage I saw a woman get up from her seat, make her way around the ring, and then head straight for me.
I was stunned and kept going about my business. When I turned back around, she had made her way on to the edge of the stage and was grabbing part of the still standing platforms from the previous act.
At that point, A grabbed her by the shoulders and forcibly removed her from the stage and directed her back toward her seat.
I have a few questions regarding the incident:
Where the hell were the ushers at this point?
Why was she not wearing shoes?
What the actual fuck?!
A said that she reeked of booze and was quite drunk. Apparently she really needed to know what the equipment felt like and if it felt "gummy".
I was stunned and kept going about my business. When I turned back around, she had made her way on to the edge of the stage and was grabbing part of the still standing platforms from the previous act.
At that point, A grabbed her by the shoulders and forcibly removed her from the stage and directed her back toward her seat.
I have a few questions regarding the incident:
Where the hell were the ushers at this point?
Why was she not wearing shoes?
What the actual fuck?!
A said that she reeked of booze and was quite drunk. Apparently she really needed to know what the equipment felt like and if it felt "gummy".
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Facepalm
I had just come up from the opening spiral sequence when I noticed a rather large puddle on stage. This made absolutely no sense as it hadn't rained a drop in days. Then I looked up and noticed a very sheepish looking woman remove her half empty beverage from the ring curb.
Way to spill your drink on stage, lady. In the future, please refrain from using the ring curb as a table.
Yeesh.
Way to spill your drink on stage, lady. In the future, please refrain from using the ring curb as a table.
Yeesh.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Poot!
Lately the cooking on tour has been wreaking havoc on most
people’s digestive systems. I’ve got to say, it’s hard to maintain the illusion
of elegance and grace on stage when the fact of the matter is that you’re
farting up a storm during your act. Ah, circus. Always keeping it gassy classy…
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Oof...
I feel like I’m circling the drain. I keep trying to tell myself “You just need to make it until Thursday, then you can have an evening off.” Or “The next part of the tour will be a little easier, then you can rest.” But Thursday goes by in a flash and it turns out the next part of the tour is much harder than any of us previously believed.
I’m exhausted and it’s taking a toll on my health, my relationship, and my mental well-being. It makes me feel ashamed to be this tired. It makes me think I’m weak. Worst of all, it makes me feel like a failure. Can I really be the only one having such a hard time? Does that seven or eight year age gap between most of my cast mates and I really make such a difference? I hear snippets of the struggle from the others, but I still can’t help but feel like I’m the only one in the weeds.
My limbs feel like they’re full of sand and when I wake up in the morning, I somehow I feel even more tired than when I went to bed. I dread doing the show and more than once I’ve found myself on the verge of tears before and during my act. I feel like my brain is in a fog and I have a hard time remembering simple cues. I keep drawing blanks on stage and hope that no one notices my scrambling to execute the cues on time.
Worst of all, I find myself fantasizing about getting injured. Nothing too serious, just enough to let me rest for a few days. Sometimes I feel like I don’t even have to dream about it. They way things are going, I can’t help but ask myself “Is today the day I just collapse backstage? Is today the day my knee gives out, or my ankle? My shoulder?”
And then I’m amazed when at the end of the show, I’m still in one piece. I’m amazed that this body, that is screaming for me to stop, so readily accepts that I just keep on pushing it, and submits to another round of abuse. And then, though it shames me to say it, I’m feel a little disappointed.
It’s happened now that I have, in fact, broken down crying after my act. And much to my surprise, I had one of my cast mates crying next to me while we lay hidden behind some décor waiting to go onstage. Will any of us make it?
I’m exhausted and it’s taking a toll on my health, my relationship, and my mental well-being. It makes me feel ashamed to be this tired. It makes me think I’m weak. Worst of all, it makes me feel like a failure. Can I really be the only one having such a hard time? Does that seven or eight year age gap between most of my cast mates and I really make such a difference? I hear snippets of the struggle from the others, but I still can’t help but feel like I’m the only one in the weeds.
My limbs feel like they’re full of sand and when I wake up in the morning, I somehow I feel even more tired than when I went to bed. I dread doing the show and more than once I’ve found myself on the verge of tears before and during my act. I feel like my brain is in a fog and I have a hard time remembering simple cues. I keep drawing blanks on stage and hope that no one notices my scrambling to execute the cues on time.
Worst of all, I find myself fantasizing about getting injured. Nothing too serious, just enough to let me rest for a few days. Sometimes I feel like I don’t even have to dream about it. They way things are going, I can’t help but ask myself “Is today the day I just collapse backstage? Is today the day my knee gives out, or my ankle? My shoulder?”
And then I’m amazed when at the end of the show, I’m still in one piece. I’m amazed that this body, that is screaming for me to stop, so readily accepts that I just keep on pushing it, and submits to another round of abuse. And then, though it shames me to say it, I’m feel a little disappointed.
It’s happened now that I have, in fact, broken down crying after my act. And much to my surprise, I had one of my cast mates crying next to me while we lay hidden behind some décor waiting to go onstage. Will any of us make it?
Sunday, August 25, 2013
There's a Murder in Town!
Performing the same show over and over again can start to feel pretty repetitive. Factor in near empty tents and the will to perform plummets. So it's good to find ways to keep things fresh and fun. For a long time, the trapeze trio has given itself crazy themes to interpret on stage. Things like "karate instructor", "dinosaur", or "your right hand is trying to murder you"... But never have we done something with the whole troupe. That is, until now...
Back in the days of creation, we would often play wink murder as a warm up activity. Having been a popular game, someone thought it might be fun to play during the show.
The murderer (chosen by the light technician) could only kill people on stage. Obviously, no one was going to suddenly feign death in front of the audience. But a list was put up backstage and if you were killed, you would cross your name off the list so that those still in the game could narrow down the suspects. When you thought you knew whodunnit, you'd call up to the lighting booth to confirm.
As you can see, we don't take kindly to murderers in these parts...
Back in the days of creation, we would often play wink murder as a warm up activity. Having been a popular game, someone thought it might be fun to play during the show.
The murderer (chosen by the light technician) could only kill people on stage. Obviously, no one was going to suddenly feign death in front of the audience. But a list was put up backstage and if you were killed, you would cross your name off the list so that those still in the game could narrow down the suspects. When you thought you knew whodunnit, you'd call up to the lighting booth to confirm.
As you can see, we don't take kindly to murderers in these parts...
Saturday, July 13, 2013
The “Poor Me” Pity Parade
Warning: This post is long and ranting due to an accumulation of months of bullshit.
It was a show like any other, and then an event of a cataclysmic scale rocked the backstage. My wheel did not get up onto the ramp to get on stage. Well, one of the rims didn’t. And so, I tipped over a little. From the inside, it was all very slow and gentle. One of my cast mates struggled to right me, I came to rest against the décor, and eventually was shifted back on to the stage. While unfortunate, this was not the cataclysmic event…
When I got off stage after my act, I expected my cast mates to see if I was okay and then we’d all have a good laugh about what had happened. But no, that was not to be. The disaster of disasters had occurred.
Apparently my wheel smashed PM in the face and then her head was smashed into a pole that holds up the shelving units. It was all about P now.
PM, I should mention, is always hurt. There’s always something. It might be her thumb. It might be collapsing in a heap backstage after her act, right where the most traffic is, because it was too hot/hard to breathe/other. It might be one of her myriad dietary restrictions that is somehow upsetting her. She might just be off brooding. And this? Getting hit in the head with my wheel? This was the End Times.
Of course it was entirely my fault. At least, so it was according to her. Wow did she ever rage about how I never do my marks correctly and never do anything right! Except for those other 115 shows that came before. I have no doubt that after I had set my marks that the carpet was readjusted. Our Artist Director had decided that, in order for the workers to better dig the trench around the big top more efficiently, she would pull the carpets and boards away from the perimeter of the tent after they had been placed. It was the first time she had done that. I usually do my marks before the trench gets dug. Once the carpets were put back, they were kind of a mess and full of scrunches. As there had never been a problem before, I didn’t bother to check the marks again. But a difference of a couple of cm really can alter the course of the wheel, especially if the angle is changed. Heck, when I roll my wheel from its start position to the ramp to see if it’s correct (that’s about 1.5m) and then roll it back, it never arrives back on the marks. Never. A bumpy dirt floor will do that. It doesn’t take much.
That being said, for two days PM managed to do her act, though she took out one or two tricks. Her friends were there and I suppose she wanted to impress. But then her friends left, and suddenly things got a lot worse. It must be a concussion. Or a brain bleed (seriously). Something terrible anyway.
At this point I should probably mention that I didn’t realize the wheel even hit her. Which is odd considering I can feel the texture of the floor when I’m rolling on it. And anytime I’ve ever hit anything, I’ve been very much aware of it. When you hit something with any kind of force, you feel it in your entire body. It was only three days later that I realized that what I thought was coming to rest against the décor was actually the famous blow. It was about then that my jaw hit the floor because that was about as tame a bump as you can possibly get from a German wheel. Of course it also made sense as far as the series of events went. The wheel was being held up and braced as it fell over. It didn’t just crash toward the ground.
Meanwhile, PM went to the doctor, had her brain scanned and all kinds of tests done and then it was discovered that there was… nothing. Nothing at all.
When you’re the Grand Marshall of the never ending “Poor Me” Pity Parade, “nothing” suddenly makes you look like maybe you might just be seeking attention. Not that that’s every stopped a Pity Parade.
In a tone of suffering, PM would tell anyone who asked how she was doing that there was no bleeding in the brain (there might have been!) and when she was asked if she had a concussion there was a lot of “Well, no, but…” and then a great deal more tales of suffering. Eventually, the answer to the concussion question was transformed to a yes…
That’s when things really started to get suspicious. We were doing a gala when suddenly PM was complaining of terrible headaches. She could then be found sitting backstage, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, now wearing glasses, and the kind of noise blocking earmuffs you would find on a construction site. Three days after the event, the situation had dramatically gone down hill.
It was only after the gala, when I was back in my caravan that I remembered that P had spent the first half of the show plugged into her ipod. Other elements of the story no longer seemed to make sense. Symptoms, actions, and the timeline did not fit together. Whenever the discrepancies were pointed out, the story changed.
For a while I thought I was the only one to see through the charade. But when asked if she would be doing the group acro act, the reaction to her response was one of giggles and rolled eyes. One of the artists could be heard to say “Oh yes, she’ll do it, but not without making sure you know she’s going to suffer through it.” When another artist pointed out that she didn’t look good, the immediate reaction from one of the other artists present was that “Things don’t always look the way they are.”
Naturally, PM was in tears after the acro act and hasn’t done the show since.
What I consider the final word is that from the Director of Artists. She confirmed that the scans showed nothing, that nothing was wrong, and that P had what is known as cranial trauma, otherwise known as, she got hit in the head. I often wonder if the Director of Artists really believed the Parade. I mean, she did say PM could skip her act and the group acro number, but still had her do trapeze for a number of shows. At this point, the DA just keeps saying, if she just does nothing, it will heal faster. Which is probably true, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s not just the easiest way of avoiding the never ending Pity Parade.
All I know is that I’m over it. I’m over asking how she is and feeding the hunger for attention. Any time I have ever offered any kind of advice, solution, or alternative to one of her many problems, I was always met with a sad voice saying “No, that won’t work with me because [insert reason for being different/special/irreparable here]” She doesn’t want to get better. She wants someone to feel sorry for her and to smother her with attention. And I, for one, am done wasting my time and energy on that shit.
It was a show like any other, and then an event of a cataclysmic scale rocked the backstage. My wheel did not get up onto the ramp to get on stage. Well, one of the rims didn’t. And so, I tipped over a little. From the inside, it was all very slow and gentle. One of my cast mates struggled to right me, I came to rest against the décor, and eventually was shifted back on to the stage. While unfortunate, this was not the cataclysmic event…
When I got off stage after my act, I expected my cast mates to see if I was okay and then we’d all have a good laugh about what had happened. But no, that was not to be. The disaster of disasters had occurred.
Apparently my wheel smashed PM in the face and then her head was smashed into a pole that holds up the shelving units. It was all about P now.
PM, I should mention, is always hurt. There’s always something. It might be her thumb. It might be collapsing in a heap backstage after her act, right where the most traffic is, because it was too hot/hard to breathe/other. It might be one of her myriad dietary restrictions that is somehow upsetting her. She might just be off brooding. And this? Getting hit in the head with my wheel? This was the End Times.
Of course it was entirely my fault. At least, so it was according to her. Wow did she ever rage about how I never do my marks correctly and never do anything right! Except for those other 115 shows that came before. I have no doubt that after I had set my marks that the carpet was readjusted. Our Artist Director had decided that, in order for the workers to better dig the trench around the big top more efficiently, she would pull the carpets and boards away from the perimeter of the tent after they had been placed. It was the first time she had done that. I usually do my marks before the trench gets dug. Once the carpets were put back, they were kind of a mess and full of scrunches. As there had never been a problem before, I didn’t bother to check the marks again. But a difference of a couple of cm really can alter the course of the wheel, especially if the angle is changed. Heck, when I roll my wheel from its start position to the ramp to see if it’s correct (that’s about 1.5m) and then roll it back, it never arrives back on the marks. Never. A bumpy dirt floor will do that. It doesn’t take much.
That being said, for two days PM managed to do her act, though she took out one or two tricks. Her friends were there and I suppose she wanted to impress. But then her friends left, and suddenly things got a lot worse. It must be a concussion. Or a brain bleed (seriously). Something terrible anyway.
At this point I should probably mention that I didn’t realize the wheel even hit her. Which is odd considering I can feel the texture of the floor when I’m rolling on it. And anytime I’ve ever hit anything, I’ve been very much aware of it. When you hit something with any kind of force, you feel it in your entire body. It was only three days later that I realized that what I thought was coming to rest against the décor was actually the famous blow. It was about then that my jaw hit the floor because that was about as tame a bump as you can possibly get from a German wheel. Of course it also made sense as far as the series of events went. The wheel was being held up and braced as it fell over. It didn’t just crash toward the ground.
Meanwhile, PM went to the doctor, had her brain scanned and all kinds of tests done and then it was discovered that there was… nothing. Nothing at all.
When you’re the Grand Marshall of the never ending “Poor Me” Pity Parade, “nothing” suddenly makes you look like maybe you might just be seeking attention. Not that that’s every stopped a Pity Parade.
In a tone of suffering, PM would tell anyone who asked how she was doing that there was no bleeding in the brain (there might have been!) and when she was asked if she had a concussion there was a lot of “Well, no, but…” and then a great deal more tales of suffering. Eventually, the answer to the concussion question was transformed to a yes…
That’s when things really started to get suspicious. We were doing a gala when suddenly PM was complaining of terrible headaches. She could then be found sitting backstage, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, now wearing glasses, and the kind of noise blocking earmuffs you would find on a construction site. Three days after the event, the situation had dramatically gone down hill.
It was only after the gala, when I was back in my caravan that I remembered that P had spent the first half of the show plugged into her ipod. Other elements of the story no longer seemed to make sense. Symptoms, actions, and the timeline did not fit together. Whenever the discrepancies were pointed out, the story changed.
For a while I thought I was the only one to see through the charade. But when asked if she would be doing the group acro act, the reaction to her response was one of giggles and rolled eyes. One of the artists could be heard to say “Oh yes, she’ll do it, but not without making sure you know she’s going to suffer through it.” When another artist pointed out that she didn’t look good, the immediate reaction from one of the other artists present was that “Things don’t always look the way they are.”
Naturally, PM was in tears after the acro act and hasn’t done the show since.
What I consider the final word is that from the Director of Artists. She confirmed that the scans showed nothing, that nothing was wrong, and that P had what is known as cranial trauma, otherwise known as, she got hit in the head. I often wonder if the Director of Artists really believed the Parade. I mean, she did say PM could skip her act and the group acro number, but still had her do trapeze for a number of shows. At this point, the DA just keeps saying, if she just does nothing, it will heal faster. Which is probably true, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s not just the easiest way of avoiding the never ending Pity Parade.
All I know is that I’m over it. I’m over asking how she is and feeding the hunger for attention. Any time I have ever offered any kind of advice, solution, or alternative to one of her many problems, I was always met with a sad voice saying “No, that won’t work with me because [insert reason for being different/special/irreparable here]” She doesn’t want to get better. She wants someone to feel sorry for her and to smother her with attention. And I, for one, am done wasting my time and energy on that shit.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Replacements and Reunions
We will be welcoming the replacement for our injured cast mate today and because the world of circus is very small, and apparently has quite the sense of humour, the replacement is none other than A, the friend and acrobat I worked with for the last four years at my old circus!
And no, it wasn't me who recommended him. I have no idea how my circus found him, but found him they did. The Director of Artists did ask my opinion of him, but that was well after the conversation had started.
All I know is that I'm really excited to see my friend later this afternoon!
And no, it wasn't me who recommended him. I have no idea how my circus found him, but found him they did. The Director of Artists did ask my opinion of him, but that was well after the conversation had started.
All I know is that I'm really excited to see my friend later this afternoon!
Friday, April 26, 2013
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Safe Travels!
Well, my babies are all packed up and ready to head for the hills. And by hills I mean Alps because this kid is going on tour in Switzerland!
The shipping company doesn't want "personal items" in the crate, which I think is lame because if I'm paying to ship the damn thing, I should be able to put whatever the heck I want in it! As such, I have used very broad definitions when it comes to things like equipment, materials, and accessories... Of course a kettle is classified as physio equipment! How will I boil the water for my therapeutic hot water bottle otherwise?
Get ready, Switzerland! I'm on my way!
The shipping company doesn't want "personal items" in the crate, which I think is lame because if I'm paying to ship the damn thing, I should be able to put whatever the heck I want in it! As such, I have used very broad definitions when it comes to things like equipment, materials, and accessories... Of course a kettle is classified as physio equipment! How will I boil the water for my therapeutic hot water bottle otherwise?
Get ready, Switzerland! I'm on my way!
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