The circus was in town.
My friends and I, we saw the posters; we saw the protesters. We even caught a glimpse of the show.
You see, we thought it a brilliant idea to peruse downtown–take in the Farmer’s Market, do a bit of shopping, snap a few photos. By the time we arrived, people were everywhere. Talk about a circus! We ended up winding our way through bodies and pups, tents and strollers straight to Reef. Our plan: dine al fresco. Alas, the hostess took one look at my pasty white skin and said, “Do you want to eat in or on the patio–it’s full sun. The patio’s full sun. I mean, full sun.” I turned to my redheaded friend and asked what she thought. “You might not last long out there,” said I. Surely, the hostess wanted to say, “She might not last? Have you taken a look in the mirror lately?” But she refrained. And we refrained from dining out of doors, which left us the only ones dining in.
Our own bit of paradise.
Unfortunately, we needed a something more to get us from the restaurant, through the throng of market goers, back to the park, wherein we had parked. So we stopped in at a little coffee shop–a coffee shop that just so happened to be connected to the venue for the circus. We could hear the ring master. Through a door ajar in back, we could see the lights, a few circus pups, and the top of a head or two.
Then she walked through the door. She had thick black hair, dark as night, and bright red lips full of sparkle. She wore a robe, leaving fishnet stockings the only part of her costume visible–but I’m sure the whole of it was nothing short of fabulous.
It was the first time I’d been that close to an actual circus performer. There’s a good chance I stared; I can only hope I didn’t gape. What can I say? It’s an occupational hazard. I wanted so badly to sit down with her and chat over a cup of coffee; to hear what it’s like, living life in the circus.
Alas, no sooner had the barista handed us our last drink then she looked over at him and said, “I’ll have to come back–it’s about time for my act.”
She went her way, and we went ours . . .