Writing Prompt: You are a tightrope walker. A guy shows up at your door. Begin with “If you know what’s good for you…” – From Take Ten For Writers.

Please Note: As an Amazon Associate, I earn a commission from purchases generated by the above link.

If you know what’s good for you, you always follow your gut feeling. Of course, in my line of work, that’s not always a good idea. And this is precisely why I get in trouble. I have a hard time deciding who’s right; my gut or my head. 

When I’m up above the rink doing my tightrope act, I usually follow my head. It’s all a matter of technique and precision up there. Actually, it’s really a balancing act for the mind. My gut will occasionally serve me well, when it nudges me to pay attention on days when I might be distracted, for instance. But other than that, it’s pure technique. Though I would say that giving in to the moment is critical as well. I become so focused that I don’t really have to think. I don’t even hear the “hos!” and “has!” of the audience.  

I was completely absorbed in finally getting myself into a good hot bath, in my hotel room after the show that night, when someone knocked at the door. My evening routine while on tour is as perfectly orchestrated as my tightrope act. I come in, remove my shoes, begin filling the bath and prepare a cup of tea. I peek out the window, to capture from above the temporary surroundings my schedule does not allow me to explore in detail, make sure the door is locked, turn on the television for some background chatter, and finally ease my way into the relaxing, bubbly bath, tea cup at my side.  

I have always insisted on having my own room. Some of my colleagues prefer to share, but I think that if someone were to interrupt my evening’s unwinding ritual it would drive me to distraction the next day. And so the knock at the door, just as my big toe met the water with, dare I say, the same elegance as it approaches the wire, was so out of place that I nearly lost my balance.  

Perfectionists tend to be irritable. I am no exception. Breaking my routine was unimaginable. Then again, curiosity had its own charm. I did what I do best and mentally paused to assess the situation, much in the same manner as I take in my surroundings when, for example, a spotlight creates an illusion on the tightrope that may fool me into a costly misstep. It all happens in a fraction of a second, and the necessary slight twitch in the leg muscles is invisible to the audience.  

In the present moment, as my brain was about to step into apprehension, my gut informed it to take an entirely different and unexpected stance. “Go to the door,” it said with distinct authority and confidence. So, I went, first exploring the hallway through the peephole as I remained safe on my side of the door instead of throwing myself into the abyss of the unknown. This revealed the friendly face of the bellboy I had met in the lobby when I arrived earlier. I instantly remembered that Mario, the trapezist, had pointed out he was a cousin. This reassured me further.

He must have heard shuffling on my side of the door, for he raised what appeared to be a birthday gift bag and announced, with a playful grin, “You’re our 7,532^nd guest!!” I definitely had to open the door. 

He politely stepped in, apologizing for interrupting my evening and making sure to stay close to the door to make it clear he had no intention of intruding. He explained that this being the hotel affiliated with the big stage, the staff had long ago decided to put on a show of their own by establishing imaginative reasons to surprise random guests with gifts. “We usually give away show tickets or free dinners,” he began to explain, and continued, “We draw a room number every week, and a day, and that’s the room that gets the prize on that day. It’s a lot of fun.” He paused and chuckled, adding, “By the way, we don’t know for sure if you are guest number 7,532!” 

He could see the bubble bath from where he stood. I was a bit embarrassed because I had gone overboard with the bubbles, as usual. He handed me the bag and said, “I think this is just what you need, but it appears I may be too late!” Inside, I discovered a delightful array of spa products, including bubble bath. There was also a voucher for a choice of hot stone therapy or massage at the hotel spa.  

The thoughtfulness and playfulness of this young man and his colleagues threw me off balance. I am so used to the repetitiveness of my days, even down to how people interact with each other, that the sudden and gratuitous kindness of these strangers brought me down to earth in a way I had not experienced in a long time, as if I needed a reminder. I am usually sure-footed in everything I do, but that single detour from my almost perfectly scripted days and performances seemed to lighten my step. In that instant, I decided that I should add more spontaneity to my life and relationships. 

That evening, I stepped into a bubble bath with a tingling mud and grapefruit mask on my face. I saved the rest of the spa products to use over time. My birthday is coming up. I still have the hot stone therapy voucher, and I just got off the phone to book a weekend getaway at that same hotel, with time to explore the city for a change.