So, last Thursday, I decided to check out magician David Blaine in his bubble at Lincoln Center. I don't really know why, other than (a) I have loads of free time and an inexplicable desire to waste it and (b) I've already been to see him frozen in ice and when he jumped off the big pole in Bryant Park, which I suppose links back to Point (a). So much links back to Point (a).
In any case, it was interesting and, like the other two Blaine "magic" events, it wasn't really Blaine's "trick" (or whatever you call spending nine days in a bubble full of water) that was intriguing but the fact that people like myself (though, for the good of humanity, I offer a silent prayer that there aren't many "people like myself") would take time out of their day to watch a guy in a bubble. I remember walking past the "Good Morning America" studios where Blaine was frozen in a block of ice and overhearing an older lady ask someone on line, "Who's the asshole in the ice?" A very astute question.
I suppose, if you want to get all touchy-feely about it, we, the people who come to watch, are the assholes in the ice, or the bubble, or on top of the giant pole, or buried alive in a coffin. After all, it's not really a magic trick we're watching (the trick part is due to come tonight, when Blaine holds his breath for nine minutes and fights his way out of chains . . . or doesn't, as the latest round of press breathlessly surmises might happen). These are really feats of inner strength and endurance at their core, attempts to somehow rise above the human condition and overcome the limitations we have has human beings. And, with his willpower and determination to emerge victorious, Blaine shows us that any obstacle, no matter how daunting, can be overcome.
I knew I shouldn't have read the David Blaine message board before I wrote this.
Well, whatever the reason why people came out to Lincoln Center this past week to stare at Blaine's atrophying body, it was a pretty entertaining spectacle. You could go right up next to the bubble or, as many preferred to do, just sort of stand around and watch other people go up to the bubble. There really wasn't much of a line when I stopped by, so I figured why not get up close and personal?
Security guards directed people up the ramp to the bubble, where Blaine would spend a few moments on one side before twirling over to the other. Anxious to keep things moving, the guards (and a few NYPD cops) would remind people that snapping a picture shouldn't be a long, drawn-out process. But as families all gathered around the bubble for a lovely family portrait of sons, daughters, and a shriveled-up guy in a bubble, the process occasionally became a little lengthy.
Once you made it up to the bubble, you were encouraged to place your hand on the bubble and connect with Blaine. I took a pass on that, because it made me feel creepy. I was apparently among the minority, though. There was much hand-to-bubble-to-hand contact and a few thumbs up and words of encouragement. And, of course, lots of photos were taken.
As I was leaving, I passed by a man who was talking to another woman about the experience and he summarized it thusly: "This is nice and all, but I like him better when he does the card tricks on the street." I kinda agree, and that got me to thinking. The next time he does this sort of thing, Blaine should bring a deck of cards and do tricks. That would be neat. Something to think about.
Anyway, Blaine's due to bust out of the bubble in a few hours. Yeah, I'll probably be watching. At home, though. I've had enough of the bubble.
But good luck, champ.
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