Just Like Cats

You won't even understand that unless you are or know someone who is allergic to cats. They're DRAWN to us. Like moths to the flame. It is the same with clowns. They seem to sense the people who are willing themselves invisible.

Saturday we arrived at the Cirque du Soleil performance of Saltimbanco. As the lights go down on the crowd, we are sitting on the floor, sixth row back. The very back row on the floor.

My Love is obviously tense as the clowns walk out. I've promised her that they won't interact with the audience. They don't do that, right? It's not like a circus circus with goofy, freaky American clowns.

A group of them stand in front of the first row. Reach down, intertwine arms with them and walk them off. Then they run back and sit in their seats leaving the Nashvillians in a group on the other side of the stage. Cute.

But that's it, I promise her. They'll start the show now.

That's when I notice two clowns lingering behind us. One male, one female with freaky masks.


Two white fingers start playing the "I'm not touching you" game with her pony tail. I lean over, "Don't look behind you." Hoping that they'll move along for her sake.

She leans forward and whispers, "I know!"

I wish I could sympathize, but I can't. It's just too damn funny. Tears stream down my face.

They played for about a minute before one of them lightly pulls her pony and they run off.

They smelled her fear.