April 2007

Busting my stage cherry

So the title is graphic and a little naughty, big deal.

This is the story of my first time on stage in front of about 300 people.

When the concept of working at Club Med was first explained to me, I thought it to be interesting and fun, if not a little odd.  I mean really, who pays you to do what you enjoy doing, learn to do new stuff, show off your new stuff on stage and to talk to random strangers who end up being your friend 6 days later?  Well, Club Med does basically, or that was my understanding of it.

I like to dance.  Mind you, I am a terrible dancer.  An embarassment to anyone with rhythm actually.  I can headbang with the best of them, although I'm getting off track.  I have a tendency to be very active behind the bar (I think I left out the fact that I was a bartender), and therefore, I tend to be remembered if not noticed.  Our choreographer, who came in for coffee every morning, was dying to get me in a show.

The problem was scheduling.  You see, as a bartender, I was working during many of the rehearsal times and no rehearsal equals no show.  Fortunately, in my first season working at CM, my co-workers in the bar really enjoyed drinking more than I did and were not the least bit interested in getting up early.  Me, on the other hand, I would prefer to be up early and get my work done so that I can relax in the evenings.  In the end, my boss gave in and let me take over all of the morning shifts so that I would have evenings free for rehearsals and shows.

These are not Broadway productions people.  These were a bunch of folks whose talents lie elsewhere that were coerced into a show.  A lot of rehearsals consisted of more yelling than dancing.  I was behind in the learning curve since most people had already been doing rehearsals for a while before I got there, but I do learn quickly.

Here's the thing about CM: if you're asked to do something and you say yes, you'd better be ready to do it in a very short amount of time.  I'm pretty sure I had about one week of practice before the choreographer decided that I was ready for the stage.  How excited was I?!?!  I told my co-workers and my boss about my pending big debut and all was happy across the land.

As the big night approached, I had no worries.  How difficult could this be?  That was not the correct attitude.  I headed backstage before showtime and found my newly named cubby.  It had my three costumes and my shoes.  Whee!!!  I made sure of the order of the show and pulled out my first costume and that's when it struck.

Stage fright.

Possibly the worst case ever known to man.  Okay, probably not, but my God, I couldn't even get my shoes on.  Mimi, who had the cubby next to mine, noticed that I was a bit on the nervous side.

"Sunshine, how are you doing?"

"Well, I have all my costumes, I think I remember the steps."

"That's good.  Oh wait, you have that on backwards."

"Ugh!  This is terrible.  I'm shaking like a leaf!"

"Oh, yes, this is your first show, right?"

"Sure is.  I hope I don't screw up."

"Look, have you had a drink?"

Seriously, she asked me if I was drinking.  I will not stand on a soap box and say I didn't consider it, but I decided against it being the noob.

"Um, no."

"Well, girl, go get one!  Geez, you work in the bar, you drink for free, and you're not having anything?  Go get yourself a drink, and bring me one too."

I'm pretty sure that I looked at her as if she had 3 heads before she told me to get a move on.  There was a corridor that connected backstage with the back area of the bar and I made good use of it.  I went back, got us drinks, had a shot of Jaegermeister for good luck and then headed backstage again where Mimi and I toasted my first show.

Did you know that alcohol kills butterflies?  No scientific study needed.  Proof positive.  I went out on stage and busted a choreographed move.  Not only in the first number where you couldn't see any of our faces anyways, but in the second number and in the finale where I was in the front row!

As we changed back into our regular clothes after the show, I received congratulatory praises on my first performance.  Even my boss pulled me to the side and said that I was right to fight for what I wanted to do.  It was a great experience that lead to soooo many more nights on stage.  After a couple years of performing, people started asking me if I'd had any experience on stage before because it always looked like I was having so much fun up there.  A few people suggested that I should try a career in stage.  HA!  I laugh at them.  I'm smiling and laughing because a)we do talk to each other up there even though you can't hear it in the audience and b) give me a shot of Jaeger and I'll smile at anything.

I've retired my stage shoes, they've been collecting dust for about 3 years now.  That doesn't mean I don't get the urge to dance every now and again because I do.  I just have to suppress these desires and be the mom/girlfriend/admin/web designer/soon-to-be business owner that we all know and love.

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Back in the day

Disclaimer: Portions of this post are un-PC.  None of this post is meant to offend.

Oh, and the end is gross.

Way, way, way back in the day when I was about 8 (before <gasp> basic cable)

Sidebar: We were having watermelon.  I think this story is the cause of my distaste for watermelon to this day.

We were, err, I was being silly, as an 8 year old child typically is.  What made this day special was that my dad was being silly too.  You just have to understand that he wasn't a silly guy.  My mom had already gotten up from the table, and in a rare moment of solidarity, my brother, father and I refused to allow her to turn the channel.  Why?  Because midget wrestling was on, of course.

I'm not sure that you understand how funny midget wrestling is to an 8 year old, so I'll tell you.

We laughed.  We laughed hard.  My mother warned me to stop.  I couldn't.  It was midgets wrestling for pete's sake.  My dad was egging us on.  My mom said I was going to get sick.  I didn't care.  It was hilarious and my dad was on our side.  Side-splitting laughter kept occurring.  I'm pretty sure one wrestler went up to the top rope.  Do you know how high that is?  That was it.  By far the funniest thing an 8 year old has seen.  Another warning came from my mother.  I should have listened.

The next minute is burned in my mind forever.  I was laughing hysterically as I shoved watermelon down my throat and the inevitable happened.  My stomach decided that I should either laugh or eat, but not both.  My brain was laughing too loud to hear my stomach, just as I was laughing too loud to hear my mom.  I would say that there was no warning, but I'm sure there was for my gut erupted and the watermelon returned to the table.  I can't remember what I had for lunch yesterday but I remember that I had a paper plate sitting in a wicker plate holder. 

After the initial shock that I had thrown up, to the disgust of my mother, we kept laughing.  That was a great day in Burkes history.

 

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5 word challenge – Listo

Yesterday, I sat on the board, gazing out over the meadow where our trapeze stands.  A gentle breeze rustles the palm fronds as the waves caress the sand where the ocean and beach meet.  It's beautiful.  A complete feeling of peace and calm has overtaken me.  The world looks different from 24 feet in the air, you know?

A little girl runs by.  I recognize her from earlier in the day.  She was all nice and clean then.  Now, she has paint all over her dress and her face as she proudly carries the vase she painted.  It has one flower in it.  Probably for her mom. 

"Hi Allie," I yell down.

"Hi, Sunny," she replies, squinting into the sun to see me.  "See my vase?  It's for my mom!"

"It's beautiful," I tell her because it is.  There's paint outside the lines and it looks like abstract art, but she's 8.

"Are you going to do a trick?" inquiring minds want to know.

"Not right now, kiddo, but if you come back tomorrow, I'll teach you a new one!" 

"Cool!!  I'll see you tomorrow."

I've been here a while.  The people change but the routine stays the same.  It's amazing how people are impressed with the way we are so "intuitive".  When you see the same things day in and day out for months on end, you just know.

I really can't sit still for much longer.  The sun is baking me an even more golden brown as it turns the ends of my locs the most wonderful copper color.  I wish I could get it all that color, but the sun just doesn't work that fast.  My mind starts racing with thoughts only found in the chalk and tape-encrusted back corners of the head of a circus GO.

It's just a quickie.

No one is here yet.

So what if someone sees you, you work here.

It isn't showing off.

You need the practice.

Stop being a wussy!

You see, I've been working my way up to this moment.  I've got the static trapeze down pat.  It doesn't move, hence the name, and the ease in which I picked it up.  I'm a madwoman under the tent.  Upside-down, right-side up, forwards, backwards, flip, spin, twist.  No problem.  It's only 6 feet off of the ground with a 18 inch crash mat underneath.  It might hurt if I fall, but I won't get hurt.

Ever since the last mid-air collision, I've been hesitant to try again.  Hesitation is not for circus GOs.  We are the few, the proud, but not the Marines.  People vacation here just to train with us.  There's no time to be a baby.  We are invincible.

It's getting late and the others will be here soon.  It's now or never.  They know that I've stepped it down a notch.  They're disappointed and they try not to let it show, but I can see it.  I've had that same look in my eye.

I know that it's time to (up)rise to the occasion.  I stand and try to collect my thoughts.  I walk(fly) through the trick in my mind.  My hands are shaking and sweaty.  As I reach into the chalk bag, I tell myself that I can do it.  I didn't go through all of this waiting and torture to not be able to do this.

I can do it.

I can do it.

I can do it.

Swing the bar.

I can do it.

I can do it.

Grab the bar.

I can do it.

Cowboy the riser.

I can do it.

I'm listo.

Ready.  Hep.

Nowhere else on earth does seven seconds take this long.

I drive my legs back in an effort to create velocity.  Don't bend your knees.  As I bring them forward and drive them up, I think about getting my feet into the clouds.  Feet in front!  Another drive backwards in the back end of my swing.  I'm back near the board and closing in on the moment of truth.

I try my best to 'float' myself up onto the bar and while I make it, I don't float.  I've always been a power flyer, but never a very graceful one.  I have less than two seconds to make my move.  It's go time.

I bend myself in half over the bar and I launch myself up and over in a little ball.  I've surprised myself.  I open from the ball, spot the net, and half-turn safely into it, landing on my back.

I truly am invincible!  It's such a rush that I climb right up and do it again.  I've become so engrossed in my flying that I don't even notice that people are watching.  (And why should I care if they are?  They get a show on Wednesday night anyways.)  More importantly, I don't notice that my teammates have arrived.  They sit quietly and watch me work out my issues.  You might think they should offer up commentary, but they know what's best.  I throw my forward over twice more before I get tired.  The adrenaline rush is massive.  I'm estatic.  I'm throwing this in the show.  I love my job.

 

PS.  I know that most of you won't know what the heck this was about so there's a video.  It isn't me but I can't post mine from work.  I'll replace it later.

Update:  Now it's me.

 

FFO

 

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