Chip off the old block

The lady followed the kid around the curtain, and smacked him on the side of the head, right behind the ear.

This is at the Big Apple Circus, during the New York run. For three months of the year, from October to right after New Year’s, the show would set up in Lincoln Center, in the section where the hold outdoor concerts in nice weather. That’s a pretty sweet three months, being paid to live right in the middle of Manhattan, no heavy lifting, and good city drugs readily available.

It helped that I’d met a nice Chinese girl who was temping for the show. She was, and is, one of the sweetest people I know, and we got on like a house afire. Then, when we were traveling again, I lost my fucking mind and broke up with her. But that’s another story.

Unlike the usual lot set-up, in New York the concession area was under a tent, which connected to the big top through two short tunnels, one for each side of the grandstand. The tunnels were kind of cool; the acoustics were such that I could shout ‘Don’t Run!’ at unruly kids and have the sound waves hit them right in the back of the head.

And New York was the world capitol of unruly kids. We threw out more families in the first two weeks in Manhattan than we had to for the rest of the tour combined. Loud kids, kids who wanted to run around the aisles at breakneck speed, kids who wanted to throw handfuls of popcorn around with the abandon of a demented Johnny Appleseed. Little Johnny Popcornseed’s, joyfully ruining the show, and life in general, for everyone around them. And, of course, their slack-jawed, bewildered parents, who always said the same thing. “What’s the problem? What do you want me to do about it?” We should have been allowed to poison them.

So the kid comes around the curtain at the base of my ramp, which had been pulled closed in preparation for the start of the second half of the show. The woman, his mother I assume, followed close behind him and gave him a nice, solid smack. Her hand hit with a meaty thud, knocking his head forward and putting him off balance for a step or two.

“You’re just like your goddamn father!” she said, just before the lights went down.

Jesus, lady, if he’s not just like his dad now, he will be pretty soon.