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Patience.
Of all the things I am learning here on the circus, this is No.1.
I have always, ALWAYS been an impatient person. I may have been able to hide it well, but the truth is I am frustrated easily by others. I fail to see things from their perspective.
Last night was a load out night...that means it was our last show in a city and we've got to pack up and move out the following morning. I say 'we', but 'we' refers to pretty much anyone who is not a performer. Performers get to go home and go to sleep.
So anyway, we (performers) get on the bus heading back to the train. The bus is chartered, and after a few minutes it becomes painfully clear that the driver has no clue how to get to the train. It's around 100 degrees outside and probably even hotter on the bus. Children are crying, people are shouting suggestions. The poor driver finally gets within sight of the animal stock cars, but can't figure out how to get into the yard. Turns out she was given coordinates, NOT an address.
Not surprisingly, at this point I'm fuming. We've been on the bus for an hour, for what was supposed to be a 15-20 minute ride. I'm tired and hungry and hot and dirty and you KNOW how I hate kids. A few others were even more aggravated than me, and started heckling the driver.
Here's where Magic Moment #1 happened.
Several people immediately jumped to the driver's defense. After all, she was given coordinates. How the hell can you figure your way into a secured train yard using just a latitude and longitude? Answer: you can't. The tension level drained a little, and several people asked politely to be let off the bus to get some air.
At this point the elephants arrived (there was an animal walk in this city, meaning the elephants walk through town to get to their cars). We asked several circus employees where the coaches were, and were told to wait until the elephants were safely loaded and the PETA protester situation was taken care of.
Right away I thought, "GOD, I've already been on this bus for an HOUR, now you want me to wait MORE?!"
Cue magic moment #2.
Jameson, one of our keyboard players, was sitting next to me on the bus. He looked up and said, "Well, at least we're not out there dealing with crazy PETA people".
"Yeah," I replied huffily.
"And at least aren't still at the venue waiting for this bus to come back. Those people are probably wondering what happened".
"Y-yeah," I said. And it occurred to me that load out was going to be late, and all the people involved in it were going to have to stay late to pack our things, all because this bus had gotten lost. I, on the other hand, was at least within sight of the train and would probably be asleep in a few hours.
After that, everyone piled back on the bus and waited patiently. After a bit we were taken to the coaches. Several people thanked the driver as we were leaving. I was horribly embarrassed to have been irritable by something so small, and was glad that the dark could hide my face, because I really was ashamed.
Then, today, just now, there was a little incident that prompted the writing of this post. I was doing laundry and had forgotten to put my stuff in the dryer. I went out into the hall to take care of it, but Brian (guitar) was already walking away from the machines, and I could hear another load in the washer. He looked at me and said, "It's in the dryer", and went back into his room.
Reaction #1: Horror. A BOY HAS JUST TOUCHED MY UNDERWEAR AND BRAS.
Reaction #2: Terror. THOSE ARE VICTORIA SECRET BRAS!!! MUST REMOVE FROM DRYER!!!
Reaction #3: Rage. WHAT AN ASSHOLE!!! All he had to do was come knock on my door!!! But instead he took it upon himself to touch my things!!! HOW DARE HE!!!
But as I rescued my VC bras, I realized that the dryer had at least been set to 'delicate'. Maybe he thought he was doing me a favor. Maybe he was trying to be polite. Or, you know, maybe he WAS really being a passive aggressive asshat. But I asked myself: no matter what his intentions, do I have any right to complain that a dude touched my clothes? I, who come and go freely in the band's all-male dressing room, whether people are getting undressed or not? As a person who sees my coworkers close to naked on a daily basis, is it not unfair of me to feel violated when one of them touches my stuff? (especially when none of them get to see me half-naked, ever!)
Nope. Not fair.
I am learning about patience.
Of all the things I am learning here on the circus, this is No.1.
I have always, ALWAYS been an impatient person. I may have been able to hide it well, but the truth is I am frustrated easily by others. I fail to see things from their perspective.
Last night was a load out night...that means it was our last show in a city and we've got to pack up and move out the following morning. I say 'we', but 'we' refers to pretty much anyone who is not a performer. Performers get to go home and go to sleep.
So anyway, we (performers) get on the bus heading back to the train. The bus is chartered, and after a few minutes it becomes painfully clear that the driver has no clue how to get to the train. It's around 100 degrees outside and probably even hotter on the bus. Children are crying, people are shouting suggestions. The poor driver finally gets within sight of the animal stock cars, but can't figure out how to get into the yard. Turns out she was given coordinates, NOT an address.
Not surprisingly, at this point I'm fuming. We've been on the bus for an hour, for what was supposed to be a 15-20 minute ride. I'm tired and hungry and hot and dirty and you KNOW how I hate kids. A few others were even more aggravated than me, and started heckling the driver.
Here's where Magic Moment #1 happened.
Several people immediately jumped to the driver's defense. After all, she was given coordinates. How the hell can you figure your way into a secured train yard using just a latitude and longitude? Answer: you can't. The tension level drained a little, and several people asked politely to be let off the bus to get some air.
At this point the elephants arrived (there was an animal walk in this city, meaning the elephants walk through town to get to their cars). We asked several circus employees where the coaches were, and were told to wait until the elephants were safely loaded and the PETA protester situation was taken care of.
Right away I thought, "GOD, I've already been on this bus for an HOUR, now you want me to wait MORE?!"
Cue magic moment #2.
Jameson, one of our keyboard players, was sitting next to me on the bus. He looked up and said, "Well, at least we're not out there dealing with crazy PETA people".
"Yeah," I replied huffily.
"And at least aren't still at the venue waiting for this bus to come back. Those people are probably wondering what happened".
"Y-yeah," I said. And it occurred to me that load out was going to be late, and all the people involved in it were going to have to stay late to pack our things, all because this bus had gotten lost. I, on the other hand, was at least within sight of the train and would probably be asleep in a few hours.
After that, everyone piled back on the bus and waited patiently. After a bit we were taken to the coaches. Several people thanked the driver as we were leaving. I was horribly embarrassed to have been irritable by something so small, and was glad that the dark could hide my face, because I really was ashamed.
Then, today, just now, there was a little incident that prompted the writing of this post. I was doing laundry and had forgotten to put my stuff in the dryer. I went out into the hall to take care of it, but Brian (guitar) was already walking away from the machines, and I could hear another load in the washer. He looked at me and said, "It's in the dryer", and went back into his room.
Reaction #1: Horror. A BOY HAS JUST TOUCHED MY UNDERWEAR AND BRAS.
Reaction #2: Terror. THOSE ARE VICTORIA SECRET BRAS!!! MUST REMOVE FROM DRYER!!!
Reaction #3: Rage. WHAT AN ASSHOLE!!! All he had to do was come knock on my door!!! But instead he took it upon himself to touch my things!!! HOW DARE HE!!!
But as I rescued my VC bras, I realized that the dryer had at least been set to 'delicate'. Maybe he thought he was doing me a favor. Maybe he was trying to be polite. Or, you know, maybe he WAS really being a passive aggressive asshat. But I asked myself: no matter what his intentions, do I have any right to complain that a dude touched my clothes? I, who come and go freely in the band's all-male dressing room, whether people are getting undressed or not? As a person who sees my coworkers close to naked on a daily basis, is it not unfair of me to feel violated when one of them touches my stuff? (especially when none of them get to see me half-naked, ever!)
Nope. Not fair.
I am learning about patience.