The venue was a large function room on a high-rise hotel/condo style abode, where the upper-crust of society lives in splendor. I had performed there a couple of times in the past. Security always admitted me and my entourage into the building without so much of a fuss.
Last Sunday was a different story, though. The gate pass could not be signed quickly. They told us it needed a requirement which needed to be fulfilled by a pre-requirement.
So it happened that the gate pass took so long to secure I began to think they suspected me as a terrorist.
While the gate pass was being processed, my team and I in the van had to circle the area, as there were no available parking slots. Thirty minutes had passed, and the gate pass hadn’t been signed yet. When I got dizzy from all the circling around, I texted Carmela of Thor Productions, who booked the show for me. I told her we were delayed at the security check.
Carmela said she went through the same security hurdle earlier, and that she’s sending help to me.
After almost an eternity (one second more of waiting and it would have been an eternity), we secured our gate pass. We drove to the loading dock and stuffed all our equipment in the service elevator. After that, I drove like mad to the multi-story parking lot, where the sign said there were three vacant slots left.
I expected spending another 10 to 15 minutes circling the parking lot in search of those three open slots. Luckily, on the first floor, the very first slot was vacant. I drove into it with wheels screeching.
I then rushed to the building lobby. A security guard, wearing a flushed worried look in his face, blocked my way. “Sir, ikaw ba ang magician?” (“Sir, are you the magician?”)
I said, “Yes,” expecting another obstacle to be thrown in my path. What if he asked me to produce my birth certificate or marriage contract….
“Kanina ka pa hinahanap sa itaas, Sir.” ((They have been long looking for you upstairs, Sir.”)
Silently, I tried to think of a wisecrack retort like, “Didn’t you tell them I was delayed because you barred my entry for 30 minutes?” But I realized that was not a wisecrack. That was an insult. So I kept my mouth shut.
The guard then announced to the lobby staff that I was the magician they were waiting for. Everybody jumped into action. Doors opened for me, employees smiled and bowed slightly as if I were a visiting royalty.
Two more security guards suddenly appeared before me and escorted me to a private elevator. I knew it was a private elevator because it needed a security key to run.
Wow, I didn’t know what Carmela told the building’s security office to transform my status from a possible terrorist to a royalty.
I got to the function room just in time to set up my stuff and perform the show. No one in the audience was the wiser about the delay.