Cirque to the Stomach
OMG! Just received a call to request that I perform for Cirque du Soleil. Fell off chair, thereby proving that I am in no fit condition to run off to join the circus anytime soon. Clambering back onto my chair, I tried to sound calm as I clarified the request. Oh good ... they are not asking me to perform at the Cirque du Soleil show coming to town. That's a relief. Ha ha, I felt a little silly ... of course they will not ask me to join them. Phew!
They just want me to perform for them for their dinner - specifically Maar Dala. Oh, what a relief ... WHAT???!!! That's even worse!!! I start hyperventilating. Pressure ... stress ... pressure ...
It's bad enough performing for peeps expecting Cirque standard performances. It's worse to dance for the Cirques performers! Have you seen these guys??? Where's my ventolin inhaler. Straight up - I panicked. I asked the manager if I'd just been punk'd. No? Right. Inhaler up. Wait, how did they know about Maar Dala or me? Dunno. Right. Fat lot of help you are.
The pressure is getting to me already. I ask if I can get another dancer to perform with me since they want me on for 3 sets. Like a little kid with an owie, I want the comfort of another friend with me. The inhaler is not working ... I think I need a nebuliser. Be back when I can breathe again.
Categories - Rambling Prose