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Rome, NY. 83 miles. Grass. Cool and overcast.
We’re playing for two days at the Oneida County Airport. The Strates Carnival has the midway at the New York State Fair a short drive away, something that probably hurt us in yesterday’s town. Soon enough we’ll turn north into the mountains for a week, then south to Albany for the long Labor Day weekend and the end of summer.
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Because I work for a big circus, when I dream I dream of small circuses with a bigtop a fraction of the size of our own. I imagine short jumps, and I never dream of a show that travels from Arizona to the Atlantic in a single season. Once in Honduras I saw a circus with five performers who pitched the tent, laid the seat boards, set the props, sold tickets and sodas. The music was an old record player playing 45 rpm vinyls. It was a great show. Heading into the late months of the season the totality of the miles we have traveled become clearer. Today I sent the parts buyer for propane to keep the giant snakes warm. In three weeks there will be frost a few hours from here.
