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by
Robin Brisker
Picture
yourself entering the lobby of a very fancy hotel. It's
reeking of idleness. People are cleaning their fingernails
with hotel post cards and reading yesterday's newspaper. You
notice there is a Steinway grand piano sitting all alone in
the middle of the room.
You
wonder if permission from hotel authority might be in order.
But the piano whispers your name. You approach the bench, take
a seat and begin to play.
Music
fills the air where there was once only cigar smoke. The lobby
is swimming in sweet waves of melodies. You are happy you
decided to play. The people in the lobby are grateful and the
hotel is, of course, very pleased that everyone is so elated.
And
so much for thinking you would need permission first...
Now
imagine you are in Barcelona, Spain. The afternoon sun is
shining down on the ramblas, the very famous walking
street crowded night and day with people.
The ramblas bisects about 30 blocks of downtown Barcelona,
flanked with restaurants, cafes, flower shops, news stands,
book stores and black-marketeers. But more than anything else,
the ramblas is an overflowing river of people.
To
a street juggler, the ramblas is a Steinway grand in a silent
hotel lobby.
A
street performer's paradise - crowds upon crowds of people
starved for entertainment. The only problem is that perhaps
you need permission first. But who would you ask, anyway?
So
a voice in your head says you should take advantage of this
situation and do a show. You begin.
Years
of experience in street performing has taught you the best way
to get the attention of a large flow of people is to do
nothing. Put a juggling ball on the back side of your hand,
extend your arm and stare intensely at the ball. Do nothing
else whatsoever until enough people have stopped to see what
you are up to.
In
no time at all, a small crowd has formed. Small crowds
generate larger ones and soon a circle of people surround you,
making a perfect stage with you as the center of attraction.
It's showtime! A little juggling, a little mime,
a little interaction with the audience... You now have a
hundred new friends for life! A member of the crowd has some
fresh fruit sitting atop her bundles. She doesn't mind as you
grab a peach. You close the show with the
juggling-while-eating-a-peach bit and dedicate it to the
generous woman.
It's
time now for the customary bows and the even more customary
passing of the hat. You can't help but think what a great day
it has been.
The
police arrive. End of great day.
The
grey uniformed men stop the show
like a bad scratch on your favorite record. They restrict you
from collecting any donations from your new best friends. And
to make matters worse, they want to see your passport - the
one you left in your hotel room. The only papers you have to
show them are the last two day's editions of the
"International Herald Tribune."
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