Picture from here

I was King of the Circus. Seriously. When I was somewhere between four and six my mother won a radio contest where we got free tickets to see Barnum and Bailey’s Circus at the Richfield Coliseum. Part of this prize pack included the child being crowned King or the Circus – I also had a Queen of the Circus whose parental unit must have also won a contest. I don’t know where my queen is, we haven’t kept in touch.

The memory is fuzzy, but I remember being taken down and sitting on the sidelines for a little bit with the circus performers. I then put on a little train (next to the queen) and was taken in a circle of the Coliseum and waved to the whole crowd of thousands. At the time it was the greatest day of my life (the worst day was finding out I was no longer going to be an only child). They cheered and I got to take home my cape (I told you I had a thing with capes) and a crown.

I was as high as a kite and bragged to all of my friends over the next year that I was king of the circus – at the time I even had pictures to prove that – so take that disbelievers (for all modern disbelievers the pictures are now lost so please suspend your disbelief, thank you). Life was good and I was king. Nothing could knock me off my thrown until the following summer.

The following summer the news announced it was going to do a little piece on the Barnum and Bailey circus coming back to town. I thought “great I’ll go back and ride on my throne again”. However, during the piece, the newscasters showed another kid wearing the crown and taking the tour. HOW COULD THEY? USURPER TO THE THRONE AND PREPARE TO MEET STEEL!!! I went to the back room of my grandmother’s house and put on my crown and cried. I think I threw away that crown that day too.

The situation had to then be explained to me – I was not happy.

I don’t hold a grudge though.

I haven’t been to Barnum and Bailey’s Circus since.

But I don’t hold a grudge.

Bastards.

Picture from here