For San Francisco’s annual Journey to the End of the Night, I played a character at the Resurrection Checkpoint.
Now, I have never been an extrovert. Because quite naturally, I am not. But this role was to pretend to be someone else. So with my sister’s discarded black feather wings, I was Black Swan or on that night, I was DANCER. And I loved it so much, to play and improv. Never did I once tire (except of the players who didn’t get the roles). I am not a great actor by any means, but to create a story from scratch was a joy.
For over 600 people, as they approached me, I was Dancer. A sad dancer who wanted to change careers and was looking for someone who wasn’t first place. Someone who ate processed meats. Something that appeared in casing. It is within some squishy white thing. At a place that starts with a N. A contest. It’s Coney Something. It’s Nueva York. That did something special on that special holiday. The special holiday that had those big booms booms. Boom Boom, I shouted.
“Can you help me find him?” I said dramatically as I pirouetted and plied. “Can you help me figure out that holiday? Is it 2nd of June? It doesn’t sound right. Do you know the answer? Do you know what food this is? The food that supposedly causes cancer? Can you help me find him? I want to change careers. From a career that forces me to stay thin and eat little. To a career where I can indulge in gluttony. Where is he?”
Players squinted their eyes and scribbled on their papers. They were dressed in black, running shoes. Some were fairies. Some wore leather. One pair was dressed as pikmin. And so many more… “That’s such a sad story,” the empathetic ones said. “You’re imaginative,” one said. “Do you mean Second Place?” the smart ones exclaimed.
“Yes!” I said. “That’s him! Thank you! Can you please talk to him and tell him that I am looking for him. I can’t leave here. I am stuck in limbo, but I think that you can get out.”