Page 9 March - April 1978
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STASH By
Lloyd Timberlake, IJA Foreign Correspondent My
ultimate juggling fantasy moved to the brink of reality last summer when
the family flew into Philadelphia for the IJA convention. The customs
man had me open the tennis bag I was carrying and his hungry eyes
settled on those four fibreglass clubs. .He beamed. He was already
reading the headlines: "Quick Customs Cop Uncovers Coke in Clown's
Clubs!" "What
are those? Who are you? Where are you going?" he demanded. "Juggling
clubs. A juggler. To juggle," I riposted, frantically knocking one
club after another on his counter to produce loud,
hollow sounds. Finally I flashed my IJA membership card -- kept in the
transparent window in front of my wallet for anyone who would "like
to see a little identification" -- and even showed him a newsletter
about the convention. He admitted defeat, decided not to saw open So
the fantasy, which I have had a lot of time to develop as I travel about
the world, always carrying clubs and balls with me, did not quite come
off. But the whole thing goes as follows: I
am coming into an international airport and am searched by customs. The
Man knows there is cocaine, heroin, or hash in the clubs and gets
out a saw. To save them I snatch them away, kick off my shoes and Unknown
to me, an international convention of theatrical impressarios is just
breaking up in the city and many of the moguls are catching flights out.
They also catch my act. Dozens of double-knit As
I say, it hasn't quite happened like that, quite yet. But
maybe as I wing into Oregon in '78. |