Any Sufficiently Dressed Axelrod Is Indistinguishable From A Magician
Originally published at jaredaxelrod.com. You can comment here or there.
Friends of mine got married over the weekend. The theme of their soiree was “steampunk circus,” which suited me marvelously. I enjoy amping up my usual sartorial excellence for weddings, and was doubly excited for this one.
After some considerable consideration, I decided to leave my light-up top hat at home. “I think I’m going to go subdued tonight.” I said to myself. Of course, because I am still me, “subdued” means a bright-blue embossed-leather vest with brass enclosures. “Subdued” means nothing I’m wearing lights up or blinks. “Subdued” means there are no special effects.
Well, that’s not entirely true.
Decked out as I was in my steampunk circus finery, goggles and all, I decided that the best possible accessory would be my clear acrylic juggling balls. Throwing them in a large pouch at my waist for easy access, I could pull them out and juggle whenever the moment suited me, adding to the general circusy air.
If nothing I wore lit up, the very least I could do was toss things in the air repeatedly.
JR was shooting the wedding, so we had arrived quite early. As the wedding was near South Street, I decided to amble down a few blocks and grab some coffee. I had not gotten far before I was stopped.
“Are you a magician?” The large fellow who was asking was sweaty and breathless, holding a variety of odds and ends in his hands.
“No,” I said, removing one of my globes from my pouch. “I’m a juggler.”
“You look like a magician. I’m a magician. I usually set up down there.” He motioned to South Street. “You about to work the street?”
I told him that no, I was going to be at a wedding.
“That’s a good gig. I’ve done wedding before. Close-up magic. Card tricks. How long you been juggling?”
“Decades, now. Since I was kid.”
“Me too. I just love magic. I could have sworn you were a magician, man. You look like one.” He had another performance to get to, so we shook hands, and parted ways.
I returned to the wedding, deposited coffee into the waited hands of my beloved, and proceeded to have a fantastic time at the wedding. I was buoyed by the gentleman’s on the street’s assertation. I suppose any sufficiently dressed Axelrod is indistinguishable from a magician. I thought about him, as I watched the bride and groom’s face light up as I was juggling.
No, sir. I am not magician. But I am magic, in my own way.
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