Magic in the Time of Coronavirus: Part 1

I mentioned on Sunday that I would use a few posts this week to tell you ways I’ve built off the virus situation to get into a trick.

Before I give my first example, let me suggest a bad way to do this sort of thing: Patter.

“These [sponge balls] are actually coronavirus microbes. Watch as they go from my hand… to yours.”

This sort of thing—the sort of thing that smacks of “Look at me! I’m making my magic relevant!”—always sucks.

I don’t want to use patter (presentation), I want to use Context.

Here’s a very simple idea you could use with someone you’ve just met (assuming you’re in the position where you’re still coming in contact with new people).

This weekend I was in a waiting room at an automotive repair shop. There was one other person in the same room, waiting for the work to finish on her car.

We talked about all the weirdness that was going on. I asked her how her life was being affected by all this and what she was doing with her time now. After answering, she returned the question. “Well, a lot of my work obligations have been cancelled for a little while,” I said. “I’m trying to keep myself entertained, but you can only watch so much Netflix. Oh… you know what I’ve been doing? When I was a kid I was into magic and I started delving into that again as a way to pass the time. Want to see something?”

This is a pretty straightforward transition, but you can see how it feels very natural.

If I just sat down next to her and said, “Want to see a magic trick?” That would be weird.

If I sat down and talked to her about the coronavirus situation and then said, “Hey, want to see a magic trick?” That would still be weird.

Here I’m creating a natural transition in a way that would appeal to me. If someone said—“I used to draw in high school and then I stopped for some reason. It’s weird though because since the whole ‘self-quarantining’ thing started, I’ve found myself getting back into. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it feels productive? Or maybe it feels calming when things are uncertain. Maybe both.”— I’d think, That’s kind of interesting. And it would bring up questions: “What kind of stuff do you draw?” “Do you feel like your skills greatly diminished or is it something you held onto in the intervening years?” Things like that.

You might say, But Andy, you’re lying to her. You didn’t just get back into magic.

Okay, sweetie, thanks. I get it. This is an older woman at an auto-mechanics shop who I will likely not see again. My lie is just to lubricate the social interaction by allowing it to flow from a potentially unsettling subject to something fun, but in a way that makes sense. This is very much a white lie. And I have no problem with those when done for the greater good.

The nice thing about this particular transition is that it lowers expectations. I’ve “just gotten back into magi.,” She’s not expecting much. In fact, after I showed her the trick she literally said, “What?! I was not expecting that.” And this transition allows it to be “just a trick.” I don’t have to come up with some immersive story to go along with the effect. The story is already included in the broader presentation of how I’ve found myself drawn back to this old interest of mine due to the circumstance that are affecting everyone.

Tomorrow, a context for a trick you all own that fits perfectly in with our germy, gross, no-touching world.