Slice of Good Ol Boy Life

On the way to the show our entourage turned into a herd. There was a funny moment on the escalator when a man got one of his shoelaces caught in the tracks. This caused a minor commotion, but most people just casually scooted by and continued their march into the casino.

One fella, a lumberin man dressed in suit and tie and holding the hand of a pretty young woman, commented on the situation.

“Sorry bud, if I had my knife, I’d cut you loose, but they took it at the airport,” he said before muttering under his breathe in my direction, “Tie your fuckin’ shoelaces.”

The closer we got to the theater the better the eye candy and I was glad to be wearing my glasses this time out. It had been a while since I returned a curious glance and outside the theater there was quite a few lookers.

As is the case with these Cirque shows, the experience begins as soon as you hand over your ticket. Getting to your seat is half the fun and thanks to Jim, we had really good seats.

“First class, Tough,” Jim reminded me, “It’s the only way to go.”

For this show, the theater was crafted into a ship. One of those colonial types with towering masts and dark brown wood paneling. As we proceeded to make our way down to the front, center section just a few rows from the stage, an usher stopped us and asked for our tickets.

He was dressed in a gladiator’s costume with a lot of fur and a painted face and he made a wisecrack about Jim’s leather jacket.

And then he turned to me, looked me up and down, and said…

“Argyle always works.”

Having been fashion critiqued, we made it to our seats and waited for the on-stage theatrics to begin. It wasn’t a sold-out show, not by any stretch. This was a week night and Vegas was hurting.

The seats to my immediate left were occupied, however, by a lesbian couple from Wisconsin. A softball coach and a school teacher and I enjoyed chatting them up.

They knew about Panama City because the school teacher, turns out, was also a motorcycle enthusiast and had been to a rally on the Beach before. Small world.

I have never been to Wisconsin, but I knew enough about the Green Bay Packers to further the conversation. Jim, sitting on my right, said hello to the gals, but that was it for him. He was ready for the show.

The lights dimmed and soon we sat in marvel at the Cirque. These actors were true performers, physical specimens indeed and many displayed unbelievable athletic moves.

It’s hard to describe what we saw that night. People were dancing, sparring, running, jumping and swinging. It wasn’t in 3-D. It wasn’t animation or a game with rules and scores. It was better. It was real and it was amazing!

Without a doubt, the Cirque was a major highlight of my trip with Jim and symbolic in many ways. Tomorrow we would began the long drive home, back to Panama City.  I was glued to my i-phone as we left the theater, tweeting about the entire night.

“KA had a peace message,” I typed to my Facebook friends.

Minutes later, as we sat on the monorail and puttered along the Strip, my inbox screen lit up with an email from a long forgotten address.

“Yes, it did,” it read. “Good to see you again.”

To this day I have no clue — no earthly idea — who sent that email.

Capable Shoulders