“What time does the band go on?” says the unassuming middle-aged southerner as we stand outside finishing our smokes watching a light snow fall in Charleston, WV.
I smile before taking my last drag.
I always get a kick in watching the reaction in their eyes when I explain that there is no band. With that bus across the street came a traveling freak show.
“You know man, it’s a sideshow,” I say.
His eyes grow wide.
Just then a drunken patron stumbles outside the bar and I hear the voice of Bryce Graves, the ringmaster of Hellzapoppin, announce in his best sideshow barker tone,
“Ladies and Gentlemen, you are going to see freaks, wonders, and human curiosities the likes of which you’ve never seen before. They’re all real, undraped and unashamed, right here!”
