Kooza

While a recent trip to the Ringling Brothers circus at MSG left me slightly underwhelmed and missing Gunther Gebel-Williams, seeing Cirque du Soleil at Randall's Island had me dumbfounded and starstruck. This ain't your parents circus. Well, maybe it is, because my parents took me, so it's not unreasonable to assume your parents might take you. The performers did everything effortlessly, the clowns, with their R-Rated material, were hysterical, and the music and story left the audience with a sense of wonder. There was a guy who rode around on a unicycle while flipping and holding a very bendable woman on his arm, a gymnast who stacked 10 chairs on top of a high chair and held one-armed-stands at each one without clipping a safety wire until the top (because 30 feet up is dangerous, but not 28), and a juggler who's hands were quick like the Flash and would bounce a ball on his head while juggling 7 hoops, just cause he could. He never messed up, which was the most incredible part about it. All the acts were poised, focused and incredibly athletic.

I left the tent with two revelations: I need to date a contortionist (they have NO bones in their body and may be of alien descent, but good god, that flexibility!) and I need to set up my apartment like a circus tent, so that when I raise my arm up, a unicycle, or trapeze set, or blender, or anything I desire will drop down to me.