The Sound of Silence Part I

It's been three months since I started the tour. I'm exhausted. I've seen countless hotels, buses, airports. The troupe is starting to get on my nerves - I'm probably getting on theirs'. The days blur past, time stands still. Here I am again, pulling the last reserve of flashy smile before an audience in Some Town, Some State. I'm leaning against a 20-foot vertical pole, just me in the spotlight, the rest of the troupe sparsely decorated at the edges feigning interest. A tinny classical piece is blaring, the annoying kind that grates across ear drums with repetitive harshness. That's the music for my choreography.

My cue is up, I start climbing up the pole, and wave at the top. The first minute passes in an unconscious haze, the aches in my body speaking louder than the pattered applause. I invert myself and drop in a rapid slide. A few "ooohs" and "aaahs" cut through the jarring cacophony of the music; I keep on truckin'. My body reflexively jerks this way and that, conditioned to the countless routines it's executed. Hand over hand, I find myself back at the top, ready for my next trick, a horizontal shoulder plank. I wait for the musical cue.

It never comes.

...to be continued...