How Zoppé Made Me Love the Circus

In my adult life, before today I've been to the circus exactly twice, Ringling Bros. and Barnum and Bailey, of course. I extracted from the experience none of the joy that I recalled from my childhood. In fact, the experience left me with quite the opposite feeling.

There's really nothing like sitting far and high away from the circus performers in an arena designed for basketball games. It's the perfect thing to educe boredom. Seeing the performers themselves is hardly possible.

Watching on the jumbotron seems to really defeat the purpose of going out to the circus in the first place. Why not just get it on DVD? (At least then you don't have to smell elephant dung.) When three rings are going on at the same time with three different shows/sets of performers, and the camera is spastically bouncing back and forth between each of them, it's almost impossible to know where you should be looking.

Sharing the circus experience with 5,000 other people is no picnic either. Lines at concession stands, bathrooms, and ATMs are so unbearable it makes getting up and intermission an actual chore and not the nice relaxing break that it's supposed to be. Not to mention the more people you cram into a place, the harder it is to park in the first place, or to get out of the lot when it's over.

Then let's talk about price. Sure, you can get seats close enough to see the performers' faces without binoculars, but it's going to cost something to the tune of $80 for tickets after all is said. Sure, they advertise $66.00 a pop, but then the venue adds parking fees, plus taxes... I've paid less money for pit tickets at a Metallica concert than what people are expected to pay for "good" circus tickets. Then it goes without saying that the prices for souvenirs, snacks, and beverages is astronomical.

Today I took my five year old son to the Zoppé Italian Family Circus. Arriving at the venue, it was a breath of fresh air to find abundant and free parking. The circus itself was set up not in a modern sporting arena, but in an actual "big top" (I am told it's a four pole), a gigantic tent on public lands.

I got there about 35 minutes early to make sure that I was able to get a seat, get snacks, and all the usual things before the show starts, and as usual, I was expecting to waste a half an hour doing that. Not so. Seating wasn't even open.

Instead, the family of performs were outside giving a free show to anyone else who happened past, meeting the guests, telling the history of their circus, and involving them in their performances. Last time I saw Ringling Bros., out of an audience of thousands one kid was picked to participate in the show. At Zoppé every child was invited in. I was too, albeit by force. They really were a family too. Brothers sisters, mothers, fathers, husbands, wives and children, one still an infant; seven generations of performers since 1842.

The show itself was great. The clowns were actually... funny. I don't ever remember seeing a funny clown in my life. Everyone under the big top was able to get into the fun. Of course the show didn't have elephants or lions, but what it lacked it more than made up for in strides with execution, incredible personableness, and - of course - entertainment.

At the end the head of the family again tells their story, thanks the audience, and then every performer greets their patrons outside as they head to their cars. The concession stand operators handed out unsold bundles of cotton candy.

And you know what the very best thing was? I bought a bottle of water, a bottle of Coke, a bag of popcorn, a big Snicker's bar, and a large cotton candy before the show, and it only cost me eight dollars. Not eight dollars an item, but eight dollars total.

In the farewell speech, the family matriarch said that this traditional style of show is the only way that a circus should be seen. And I agree. I went from being a person who couldn't stand the circus to a fan, and all it took was a show just large enough to be completely consumable.