Category: Bossier City

“Isn’t the fair open other nights?” asked my co-worker Chet bemusedly. I thought I heard a suppressed yawn, too. He had just flown back into town, but I’d extended an invitation to the fair anyway.

“If I don’t go to the fair tonight, I might never get there,” I told him a bit wildly, driving (in every sense of the word) my red Ford Focus toward Shreveport. The Louisiana State Fair had been in town for two and a half weeks, but getting there was taking some effort. There were so many excuses. Each weekend it rained… I was busy on weekdays… The time changed. But last night I was determined: I was going to the fair, even if it was by night. And this was going to be the night.

Night came fully by the time I parked at about six thirty. There seemed to be shadows everywhere as I crossed the parking lot, and I stayed close to other groups of fairgoers. The entrance tent was also dim, a dirty red, lit by high florescent lights. Kids were excited to be at the fair and their parents were excited about instagramming their kids being excited. If an atmosphere can be described as postmodern, it’s the Louisiana State Fair by night.

This fair doesn’t smell of funnel cakes, like most fairs do; two smells alternate hitting you in waves as you walk. McDonald’s, gyros, McDonald’s, gyros, McDonald’s. I’d never experienced anything like it.

The loudspeakers blared: “THE LAST PERFORMANCE OF CIRCUS HOLLYWOOD! FREE ADMISSION! AMAZING ACROBATICS AND HIGH WIRE ACTS!” I was in the act of walking past the big top on my right… why not? Responding aimlessly to the announcement, I shifted my steps, shuffled into the tent and took a seat on the rickety painted red bleachers.

The atmosphere was so subdued you would’ve thought it was a buttoned-up church service. Dirty red tent curtains, dim lighting: the show ring looked old, but still classic. Like community theatre, part of its charm is when you know the performers are real, and you can identify with them, touch them emotionally.

“Two minutes until the show begins!” blared the announcer, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. And the music started then: a pulsing beat that got under everyone’s skin, no matter how well-mannered their facade. I watched newcomers’ strides match the rhythm; I watched the audience move perceptibly with the rhythm. A shift of the shoulder here, a bob of the head there. It got through to a semi-primal level where we were all there excited to live vicariously through performers of death-defying stunts.

The acts were charming and thankfully light on clowns. As I was mesmerized by the thousands of sequins under spotlights, I considered for the first time as an adult what it would be like to earn a living this way. Fun? Exhausting, more like. Interesting? Without a doubt. Dynamic? Yes. What were these performers’ lives like after they went behind the red curtain? Don’t we think of “joining the circus” in the same way we think of becoming a pirate or moving to a cabin in the woods hiding from the census bureau? But the circus is a legitimate business for those in it – a very real and deliberate career choice. They are no different than entrepreneurs who are told their business will fail, kids who want to be psychologists instead of investment bankers, seniors who start their lives again at sixty-five… or me, traveling America alone all year. In a way, haven’t we all run off and joined a circus?

There were so many other things to see at the fair, even a patient, well-fed giraffe in a petting zoo.

The best job at the fair, I think, is being the guy in the security helicopter crossing back and forth, low and fast overhead. How much fun would that be?

And if I climbed in the cockpit to ask the pilot if they would trade their job tonight for conventionality, stability, normalcy, and more income… I bet he’d tell me he prefers the trapeze.

-The Dauntless Princess-

When Patricia’s rains came, they came for days and rained out all outdoor events including the fair opening this weekend. Rodger grumbled that this was rather poor planning on the fair’s part, but before he really got off on a tangent, I hurriedly found other plans for us. Bossier Parish Community College Theatre was performing Peter Pan on Saturday night.

I’d never seen the story performed on a live theatre stage before and was completely thrilled. The story is one of my favorites, with all its whimsy and sparkle. In fact, I plan to have my own private library someday and am working on building it even now… and Peter Pan was the first book I ever bought for that library, a hardcover collector’s edition.

And in a college community theatre setting? Where heartfelt performance often makes up for elaborate set and costuming? Yes and yes. It had been almost a full year since I’d been in a theatre, and I was missing it anyway.

So I braved the downpour Saturday night to see the show. The opening music playing was from old nostalgic Disney movies: Cinderella, Pocahontas, Mary Poppins. As we all filed into the theatre, I noticed everyone had brought children and grandchildren, which I don’t often remember exist in my world but I love being around when I have the chance. I felt a bit like the old fart on Finding Neverland who overdressed and found themself next to a giggling kid: distracted, but charmed all the same. 

The show made us all believe in magic, and not because of good directing or good acting, or clever stage blocking or good vocal performances. Everyone onstage was having the time of their lives. I tend to pick favorites when I watch a show, but at Peter Pan I had too many favorites.

If I had to pick, it’d probably have to be lost boy Sprightly. No more than five feet tall, baggy brown trousers and suspenders, bare feet and blonde hair poking from beneath the old hat he wore. He danced around the stage with abundant energy and a sweet, hopeful face making me believe he had no mother. I wanted to adopt him and take him home! 

But then there was Smee, too. Ah, I don’t usually fall in love with pirates, but as Captain James Hook himself said, “You’re too lovable, Smee!” And so he was: tall, gangly, bumbling, Hook’s right (left?) hand. Isn’t Smee usually short and fat? I’ll never see him that way again.

Even the dreadful Captain James Hook himself had his moments, at least as villains go. When he captured all the lost boys, John, Michael, and Wendy, he sang a long song about what a terrible villain he was and it struck me how few times we actually hear the villain of any story admit to their own wrongdoing or nefarious behavior. Dale Carnegie says that few recognize themselves as bad people. Humans are quick to justify and rationalize their behavior; even cold-blooded, notorious Al Capone called himself a public benefactor working for the good of society. It is rare to hear a villain boast honestly about being the worst sort of person. So, James Hook, while unfortunately you are a terrible person and did some very bad things, you do at least get credit for being self-aware. I suppose it is a silver lining to growing up, gaining maturity, losing the magic of youth and the power to fly… If there have to be pirates in our world, I wish they would take a lesson from you.

Wendy, John, and Michael made it home, all the Lost Boys were adopted, and Peter Pan fell in love with Moira, all by ten o’clock. The curtain closed, but it closed behind the cast, who all ran offstage into the audience and met us!

Neverland isn’t just something in a movie or play… It’s in the little part of our world that believes in fairies and is magical, and if we watch for it, we’ll see it every day. Let’s adventure there more often.

-The Dauntless Princess-