..but I’d hate to have to paint it.

I once made a living as a mime.

This was a long time ago – 20 years and 20 pounds, I tell people – but I haven’t had a job since that’s been as challenging, memorable and fun.

SeaWorld of San Diego has this ongoing Seal & Otter show that’s been around since the sixties in one incarnation or another. The show changes story and format every few years – back in my day it was the “Spooky Kooky Kastle” show, followed by the “Pirates of Pinneped”a year later.

Hey, I was just a performer.. I didn’t name these shows. That seemed to involve smoking illicit substances.

There were a handful of us on staff, and we worked different shifts just like anyone else. Our job was mainly to do the preshow, by coming out to “warm-up” the audience and get them into a laughing mood. It didn’t always work. One time I was chased by an angry guy waving a crutch because I’d sort of inadvertently poked fun at his fat wife, and I don’t seem to recall that he was in much of a laughing mood. But you just can’t be a Mime and be politically correct – YOU JUST CAN’T.

You won’t be funny.

But I’m not going to talk about that today. Maybe some other post, because today I’m going to tell you about Michael and Saj. Those are two guys who met each other one day long ago, but I’m the only one who finds it ironic. Until now, because you will too when I’m done.

Michael was a former Ringling Bros circus clown who’d been originally hired as a Mime, but then promoted to show producer. He was a funny guy, and by that I mean HYSTERICAL. I did okay, but compared to Michael I was about as funny as a pile of dirty underwear.

One day I had a small audience. The stadium held 1200 people, so when you only have 12 people show up, that’s one percent, and that’s enough to be a downer. I went out and did some of my funnier bits for them, but it basically sucked and they applauded politely as if to say, “HAHA, very nice, now get the hell out of the way and bring on the dancing otters.”

I left the show feeling kind of drained, and ran right into Michael behind the scenes somewhere. He was carrying his showproducer clipboard and wearing his showproducer tie and showing showproducer concern that I seemed blue, and not the bouncy, happy mime I was supposed to be. He asked how the preshow went and when I told him about the 12 people he said something about it being “hard to make disciples laugh, but what about Jesus, because HE’S the only one who matters you know!”

See? That was Michael.. damn funny and not in the least bit politically correct.

He occasionally filled in as a mime if someone took a day off, and one of the other guys wisely did so on a Monday because it was cold and drizzling rain, and he knew it’d be slow.

Michael admitted to hoping nobody would show up and he’d not have to do a show, but there they were.. two teenage boys and a girl who climbed to the very last row at the top of the 1200 seat stadium, sitting in the drizzle and hoping to be entertained.. so he entertained them.

He said he pretended to be a mountain climber when he first came out, swinging an invisible pick and pulling on an invisible rope to laboriously make his way up to them. That ate up the first five minutes of his fifteen minute routine, so once he got up there he stood on the empty bench in front of them and offered up a silent yet panic-stricken prayer to his muse for ten minutes of inspiration.

It came.

He said he didn’t know how it came, or from where, but dammit.. he was funny. Those kids laughed and clapped and had a great time, as Michael stood on that bench and did silly shit that he couldn’t recall when telling me about all of this a few days later.

His point was that if I just trust in my inspiration and let it flow through me, I’d be able to do it for one, one hundred, one thousand or a million people.. just let it be. Obviously, I’ve always remembered the story because it had an impact on me.

That was in 1988.

Fast forward to 1998 – coffeesister and I lived in Ashland, Oregon. I was doing sound design for a local theater group and a young guy named Saj was doing lighting. After we’d finished our show set-up one evening, Saj came over to our place and we sat around drinking beer and swapping stories. Turns out he was from California. Turns out he visited SeaWorld once with some friends.

Turns out it was while on spring break in 1988.

I’d told Saj I used to perform at the Seal & Otter Show as a mime, so he was telling me about the mime he saw.. it was a drizzling Monday and the place was pretty empty. After he and his two friends had made their way to the top of the stadium, the mime came out and did some kind of mountain climber bit to get up to them, followed by ten minutes of delightful comedy on the bench in front of them

Saj, his buddy and his buddy’s girlfriend all thought it was hysterical.

While he was telling me this, I must have looked like I’d just seen the ghost of Abe Lincoln giving me a lapdance in the nude, because Saj asked me what was wrong. I asked, “Did you guys see the mime in another part of the park later and go up to thank him for doing a whole preshow just for you?”

Yes, they did.

Michael had told me about that part too.. how the three kids came up to him later and said they really appreciated him coming out and doing the entire bit just for them.

I told Saj about Michael and his inspirational story ten years earlier. Here we were, ten years later, and I think Saj was now the one seeing the ghost of Abe Lincoln. His mouth was open and we both just sat there in stunned silence for a few minutes, until coffeesister finally laughed and suggested that perhaps now would be a good time to go buy a lottery ticket.  I did, but I didn’t win.

Steven Wright once said, “It’s a small world, but I’d hate to have to paint it.”

Me too.

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Tagged as: Arts, Ashland, Ashland Oregon, mime, performing, Performing Arts, seaworld, small world, Steven Wright