Author
Vital is also a published author with his short story “One Way Street” recently published in Writer’s Bloc IV. Writer’s Bloc IV will soon be available on Amazon. Stay tuned!
He is currenlty working on a memoir titled Flying Without a Net. Flying Without a Net is not only a backstage pass to life behind the scenes at Cirque du Soleil; it is also an inspirational memoir that honors the power of the human spirit. Vital’s journey includes poignant social, racial and cultural issues that are carefully interwoven with acrobatics, humor and sentimentality.
As a child, the aspiring soccer player and unbeknownst to him, future trapeze artist survives insurmountable tests of a mother’s struggle with alcohol, African civil war and the burden of growing up in the coldness of foster care in London. As a teenager he lives for tomorrow with a belief in the improbable. A sudden move to a small coastal town in Belgium, where they eat fish and chips with mayonnaise, reunites him with his sexually and mentally abusive father.
Desperate and lost Vital discovers nightlife, temptation and the dance. The dance becomes his saving grace and sets in motion a voyage across the Atlantic to escape his nightmares and live his dreams.
One strange New York day, he auditions for a then-unknown-to-him circus with a funny French name. It is a life-changing experience. The Mystique of what hides behind the creative doors of Cirque du Soleil’s factory in Montreal is more fascinating than he could have ever imagined. But Cirque life is not all glitz and glam.
From broken bones to dreams come true, Flying Without a Net is full of unexpected flips and twists.
Mesdames et Messieurs, come live the romance of the trapeze and fly without a net. It’s magical!
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CHAPTER 1 excerpt FLYING WITHOUT A NET
Tyson’s Corner, Virginia, whirred with anticipation. The night was clear and still. The succulent smell of popcorn wafted through the air as families got lost in the excitement.
Traffic cluttered the surface streets all the way to the freeway exit about a mile away. Patient police officers directed cars to the limited parking spaces, while the walking masses milled around the grounds, stomachs tingling. Lovers walked arm in arm, sharing romantic glances and kisses.
Step right up. The circus is in town. But not just any circus. Mesdames et Messieurs, welcome to Cirque du Soleil!
At the stroke of eight, the expectation of Cirque du Soleil’s Quidam would morph into mystique, pageantry, and spectacle.
The blue and yellow Big Top seemed like a beehive with hundreds of busy bodies buzzing around, curiously pointing, waggling and chatting. Inside the tent, ushers checked tickets and steered guests to their aisles and seats.
Backstage, we added the final touches to our make up, each dab shedding a layer of ordinary.
“Stand by thirty minutes!” shouted Sophia, the curly-haired stage manager, giving the first countdown cue to me, and the rest of the cast of Quidam before curtain.
With the clock officially ticking, formalities and preshow rituals began as we prepared to stare danger in the face once again.
Cirque life was located on the edge of safety and calculated craziness, veins loaded with adrenaline – a juggling act of razor blades and glistening swords, eager to puncture careers. Danger blended into a scenery that we overlooked and forget. That did not mean we were blind to the threat of our job, however. It’s always there in the subconscious. Tragedy would hopefully not strike today.
An ambulance waited parked at the back each and every show. The paramedics had not been called to duty yet since I joined the tour eight months ago.
Quidam’s acrobats stretched and pumped-up. Wardrobe sewed. The skippers double-dutched and the jugglers juggled, obsessively repeating maneuvers in the hope of attaining impossible perfection.
As for the Russians, who formed the majority of the cast, they smoked, played dominoes, and drank Vodka in absolute bliss.
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