copyright vital germaine 2009
FLYING WITHOUT A NET... a memoir by Vital Germaine
PAGE 1
Tyson’s
Corner, Virginia, whirred with anticipation. The night was clear and still. The
succulent smell of popcorn wafted through the air, as families got lost in the
excitement.
Traffic
cluttered the surface streets all the way to the freeway exit about a mile
away. Patient police officers directed cars to the limited parking spaces,
while the walking masses milled around the grounds, stomachs tingling. Lovers
walked arm in arm, sharing romantic glances and kisses.
Step
right up. The circus is in town. Not just any circus. Mesdames et Messieurs, welcome to Cirque du Soleil!
At
the stroke of eight, the expectation of Cirque du Soleil’s Quidam would morph into mystique, pageantry, and spectacle.
The blue
and yellow Big Top seemed like a beehive with hundreds of busy bodies buzzing
around, curiously pointing, waggling and chatting. Inside the tent, ushers
checked tickets and steered guests to their aisles and seats.
Backstage, we added the final touches to our
make up, each dab shedding a layer of ordinary.
“Stand
by thirty minutes!” shouted Sophia, the curly-haired stage manager, giving the
first countdown cue to me, and the rest of the cast of Quidam before curtain.
With the clock officially
ticking, formalities and preshow rituals began as we prepared to stare danger
in the face once again.
