I was at Easter dinner the other day with my husband’s family. Upcoming travel plans came up in the conversation and the requisite Vegas trip by one family member was discussed.
She said she’s seen all the shows and has no desire to see more, though her daughter and daughter’s fiancé have expressed interest in going to one or two.
“I hate magic,” I blurted out.
I really do. The audience all knows the magic is “fake”, that each trick isn’t borne out of some mystical or otherworldly force.
And yes, there are fans who sit and wonder “How did he (or she, though I’ve never seen a she but I’m sure they’re out there) do that?”
I don’t know and I don’t care. If you’re a performer and you’ve gotten to the point that you have a standing, paying gig in one of the biggest entertainment cities of the world, I’m going to guess the average bloke, like me, won’t be able to figure out how you “did it”.
And to sit and think about it is more work than I want to do when a) I’m on vacation and b) I’ve spent a good portion of my last paycheck on tickets to the performance. If I can figure out your sleight of hand, then you’re probably not that good.
Same goes with circus shows. I have to admit I’ve never seen a Cirque du Soleil show, and maybe if I ever do, I’ll be a changed person.
But I cannot get my head wrapped around the fact that the people performing are SUPPOSED to fly through the air and catch on or whatever to another person flying through the air. They’re SUPPOSED to twirl in the air and land on some other trapeze or whatever.
Over the years I’ve read about one circus performer or another whilst dying in an act. I feel bad and sad. But I also wonder, why were they even doing that? What possessed that person to think that sailing through the air with the greatest of ease both a viable and guaranteed mode of income?
But hey, if that’s your thing and you enjoy it, go for it. I get the appeal – the costumes, the non-9-5 office workday, the spectacular feats that average Midwestern people like me could never (nor want to) do. And I’m happy people are employed in these shows. I do not begrudge them. I applaud and support the performers, as well as everyone else behind the scenes, but I, as a person, have no desire to sit through 3 hours’ worth of “amazing feats”.
Then I remember my husband and son, both of whom are electricians. How many in their field of work die each year on the job, working to make money for their families?
More than I want to think about, for sure.
49 and Counting 