My Job Is Awesome
I assume that you all know that I play pretend for a living (supplemented by bartending, but that's Canadian theatre for you). 'Actor' is my official job description, but it often feels like I'm getting paid to play the same game of make-believe that I enjoyed when i was seven. I regularly can't quite believe that I'm making a career of such shenanigans.
This week, it's even stranger/awesomer than ususal. Casa Loma is, for the duration of the March Break, hosting a crazy pirate event for kids. There's a pirate magician, a pirate juggler (he juggles cannonballs and knives at the same time), and my pal Adrienne Kress reads from her recently-published (and very very funny) novel, Alex And The Ironic Gentleman. Jolly Rogers flap in the breeze of comically enormous electric fans, and a pirate ship seems to have moored in the basement's unfinished swimming pool. To extend the piratical atmosphere to the entire building, a gang of actors have been hired to lead treasure hunts. So I, ragged map in hand, lead gangs of children on a meandering quest for the Lost Pirate Treasure of Casa Loma. Just to reiterate, I get paid to do this stuff.
Having roughly laid out the route that the treasure hunt would take, our employer gave us supplies and had us craft our own treasure maps. Most of the others made something abstract, cartoony, and usable only as a prop. Their treasure hunts are performances, where the kids follow along and watch a pirate sort through the clues on his/her map. Which is fine, but not enough for me. My map is a top-down map that combines elements of all four floors of Casa Loma into one layer, littered with rhyming couplet clues that direct the reader to the next point. I really enjoy showing kids the map and letting them figure it out, which they're usually able to with only a bit of help from me. Yesterday, I had a group of teenagers who insisted on going on the hunt, and I took them as a separate group as an experiment (they were all dressed in highly snappy pirate costumes, and seemed very willing to play along). I swore them in as pirates, gave them the map, and told them to figure it out for themselves. They were able to take my map, and with some scheming, find the treasure on their own. All I did was follow along, mutter snarky things to throw them off their game, and activate the animatronic skeleton that gives the final clue. Yay, I designed a thing that works!
Most wonderful are the kids. Some of them are shits, of course, but I meet many children each day who leave me smiling for hours. One girl, perhaps three years old, asked if I was married (I wear my grandfather's big gold ring on my right ring finger, and it's blingy enough that I leave it on when pirating). When I explained that wedding rings go on the other hand, she checked the placement of her mother's ring and confidently imparted that her mommy was married. I asked to whom, and the girl pointed at a nearby man and said, in the utmost seriousness, "that guy". She went on to identify 'that guy' as Daddy, but her initial candour was hilarious.
Another little girl- about five years old- came along on one of my treasure hunts and spent the entire time tugging at my coat and sharing Important Facts: she likes ponies, has three princess dresses, and planned on buying a boat and becoming a pirate when she grew up. When the tour was over, she came up and told me in her most grown-up voice that the adventure had been great, that she loved her shiny pirate coin (the giveaway at the end of the hunt), and that she wanted me to have something. She then took a shiny red plastic ring off her biggest finger, and wedged it onto my pinky. I initially felt bad taking it, but she insisted very eloquently, and I couldn't possibly turn her down. I told her that I was honoured and would take very good care of her treasure, and she smiled a huge smile. What I love about all of this is that it never occurred to her that I'm anything but a Real Live Pirate, taking her into my confidence as a trusted accomplice. I guess that's why I revel in playing pretend for a living: it's the closest I can get to seeing the world through eyes like hers.
There will be pictures when I remember to bring my camera to work. We've taken to sitting around the various levels and ledges of the Great Hall staircase, creating the impression of (according to the event's producer) a 'big crazy pirate brothel'. We look pretty sharp, and swaggering about a big old mansion makes me feel like a real pirate raiding the Governor's home. I have the coolest job in the world.
This week, it's even stranger/awesomer than ususal. Casa Loma is, for the duration of the March Break, hosting a crazy pirate event for kids. There's a pirate magician, a pirate juggler (he juggles cannonballs and knives at the same time), and my pal Adrienne Kress reads from her recently-published (and very very funny) novel, Alex And The Ironic Gentleman. Jolly Rogers flap in the breeze of comically enormous electric fans, and a pirate ship seems to have moored in the basement's unfinished swimming pool. To extend the piratical atmosphere to the entire building, a gang of actors have been hired to lead treasure hunts. So I, ragged map in hand, lead gangs of children on a meandering quest for the Lost Pirate Treasure of Casa Loma. Just to reiterate, I get paid to do this stuff.
Having roughly laid out the route that the treasure hunt would take, our employer gave us supplies and had us craft our own treasure maps. Most of the others made something abstract, cartoony, and usable only as a prop. Their treasure hunts are performances, where the kids follow along and watch a pirate sort through the clues on his/her map. Which is fine, but not enough for me. My map is a top-down map that combines elements of all four floors of Casa Loma into one layer, littered with rhyming couplet clues that direct the reader to the next point. I really enjoy showing kids the map and letting them figure it out, which they're usually able to with only a bit of help from me. Yesterday, I had a group of teenagers who insisted on going on the hunt, and I took them as a separate group as an experiment (they were all dressed in highly snappy pirate costumes, and seemed very willing to play along). I swore them in as pirates, gave them the map, and told them to figure it out for themselves. They were able to take my map, and with some scheming, find the treasure on their own. All I did was follow along, mutter snarky things to throw them off their game, and activate the animatronic skeleton that gives the final clue. Yay, I designed a thing that works!
Most wonderful are the kids. Some of them are shits, of course, but I meet many children each day who leave me smiling for hours. One girl, perhaps three years old, asked if I was married (I wear my grandfather's big gold ring on my right ring finger, and it's blingy enough that I leave it on when pirating). When I explained that wedding rings go on the other hand, she checked the placement of her mother's ring and confidently imparted that her mommy was married. I asked to whom, and the girl pointed at a nearby man and said, in the utmost seriousness, "that guy". She went on to identify 'that guy' as Daddy, but her initial candour was hilarious.
Another little girl- about five years old- came along on one of my treasure hunts and spent the entire time tugging at my coat and sharing Important Facts: she likes ponies, has three princess dresses, and planned on buying a boat and becoming a pirate when she grew up. When the tour was over, she came up and told me in her most grown-up voice that the adventure had been great, that she loved her shiny pirate coin (the giveaway at the end of the hunt), and that she wanted me to have something. She then took a shiny red plastic ring off her biggest finger, and wedged it onto my pinky. I initially felt bad taking it, but she insisted very eloquently, and I couldn't possibly turn her down. I told her that I was honoured and would take very good care of her treasure, and she smiled a huge smile. What I love about all of this is that it never occurred to her that I'm anything but a Real Live Pirate, taking her into my confidence as a trusted accomplice. I guess that's why I revel in playing pretend for a living: it's the closest I can get to seeing the world through eyes like hers.
There will be pictures when I remember to bring my camera to work. We've taken to sitting around the various levels and ledges of the Great Hall staircase, creating the impression of (according to the event's producer) a 'big crazy pirate brothel'. We look pretty sharp, and swaggering about a big old mansion makes me feel like a real pirate raiding the Governor's home. I have the coolest job in the world.