I am 13 years old and standing backstage at Caruso Middle School. It’s the opening night of the student talent show, and I prepared a special levitation illusion to perform with my friend Greg. He is a small-little-Jewish-boy with curly black hair and definitely weighs less than 100 pounds. Greg is the perfect assistant for the levitation illusion.
The “Jurassic Park Theme Song” begins to play, (which is clearly the right music choice), and Greg and I walk out onstage. We walk towards the illusion, and he hops on top of the table, which is about three feet above the stage. The table is supported by two small pillars; both the pillars and the table will eventually be removed, thus producing the illusion that Greg is levitating. I wrap him in a fuzzy-gray blanket and wave my hands over his face, as if to “hypnotize” him. I then wave another magical gesture and remove the first pillar from underneath the table. This is done rather easily, just as it had been during the rehearsals. Greg is still “hypnotized.” I grab the second pillar and prepare to remove it, but it seems to be stuck in between the stage and the table. I yank the pillar even harder out from under the table. As a result, Greg comes crashing down onto the stage.
I am in shock. I am staring down at the ground as Greg gets up and walks offstage. My mind does not even process what just happened, or how it happened. The “Jurassic Park Theme Song” is still playing, and my eyes begin to move frantically around the auditorium. I can feel my mom’s Jewish-motherly pain as she records the act on her camcorder. I have absolutely no idea what to do.
Luckily, somebody backstage decides to stop the music and close the curtain. I walk offstage as I rub my face in distress. I know that this performance will be an infamous moment for the rest of my life.
By Danny Dubin|Blog|0 comment