“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” the megaphone man continued. “Stay right where you are. You will not want to miss this. Here is the greatest escapologist in the world, the man who makes the impossible possible. The one, the only, Harry…Houdini!”
More applause and hat waving.
I have to admit, it was kind of cool hearing all those people cheering for me. I had never experienced anything like it. I felt very alive.
“Take a bow, Mr. Houdini,” the guy in the military uniform whispered in my ear.
I stood up, bowed, and waved to the crowd. That made them cheer even louder.
But I was scared. I was also mad. Houdini never told me I’d have to do an escape as my part of Metamorphosis. He just said I would be the most famous man in the world. And now there was nothing I could do about it. It was a classic magician’s misdirection.
The three guys helped me take off my jacket and tie. Then they picked up a straitjacket and draped it over my shoulders backward, with the opening behind me.
“This is all a big mistake,” I protested. “I’m not really Houdini. I’m just a kid.”
“Hahaha,” laughed the guy in the uniform. “You are a funny man, Mr. Houdini.”
The straitjacket was made of very heavy brown canvas, with a leather collar and leather cuffs. The sleeves were about twice as long as regular sleeves, and sewn up to close off the ends. It was like putting your arms into two cloth sacks.
The sleeves were overlapped so that my arms were crossed in front of me. At the end of each sleeve was a leather strap that wrapped around my body so the two sleeves met behind me and buckled in the back. Another strap was passed underneath, between my legs, and also buckled in the back. There were rivets at various points to prevent the fabric from being torn.
I was in big trouble. The only good thing about this escape, I suppose, was that I wouldn’t have to pick a lock or hide a key inside any part of my body.
“This is all a mistake!” I said as two of the guys grabbed me in a bear hug while the other guy stuck his knee against my back so he could pull the straps as tight as possible. “Let me explain!”
The three of them laughed.
“Come on, Mr. Houdini,” said the guy with glasses. “I know you’ve done this a hundred times before.”
“But…but…”
I was wrapped up tight. This couldn’t be happening! I had read a little bit about how Houdini escaped from straitjackets, but I never thought I would have to do it myself. How could I possibly get out of this situation?
While they were buckling me up, another guy came over lugging a long cable with a thick padded length of cloth at the end of it. He wrapped the cloth around my ankles and tied my legs together with it.
“What are you doing that for?” I asked.
“So we can hoist you up in the air, of course!” he replied.
“Wait. What?” I said, my voice rising. “You mean I’ve got to get out of this thing upside down?”
“Of course!” the guy said. “How else could all these people see you?”
“But…I’m afraid of heights,” I said.
“Hahaha, very funny,” said the guy in the military uniform.
“You know the drill, Houdini,” said the guy with glasses.
I actually did know the drill. I had seen videos of Houdini doing this stunt on YouTube. Usually, he performed his escapes behind a curtain so the audience couldn’t see how he did it. The straitjacket escape was the only outdoor stunt he did in full view of an audience. It was his brother Hardeen, who was also a magician, who suggested it would be more dramatic if the audience could watch him struggle.
Oh, they were going to see a struggle all right.
“Maestro,” shouted the guy with the big megaphone. “A little music, please!”
Somewhere, a band started playing. The guys lowered the upper part of my body down so I was lying on the ground. Somebody gave a signal, and the cable started slowly pulling my legs up.
The cable must have been attached to a pulley on the roof of the building. A guy down on the street was pulling me up. As my legs lifted off the ground, the guys held my upper body so that all my weight would not be on my head.
I closed my eyes. I was upside down now, being pulled up in the air. As more and more people could see me rising up, the crowd roared its approval.
“Help!” I shouted. “Help!”
People were laughing.
“I’m not joking!” I shouted. “Get me out of here!”
I could feel myself rising higher and higher. I could already feel the blood rushing to my head. When I opened my eyes, I could see windows of the office building filled with people.
I was about the same level as the Kansas City Star sign, nine stories up. That was on purpose, I’m sure. Photographers were leaning out of the windows, trying to get a shot of me with the sign in the background. I was just hanging there.
That’s when I started to cry. I couldn’t help it. It just came over me. I don’t think the people below could see it. But I was helpless. Useless. And scared. I couldn’t even move my arms to wipe the tears away. They collected in my eyebrows.
I tried to remember some of the things Houdini had texted me: “We are all afraid of something. You cannot get past fear unless you confront it. If you can do that, you can accomplish what appears to be impossible.”
I looked down. There must have been thousands of people below, craning their necks to look up at me. They were standing so tightly together that none of them would have been able to sit down if they wanted to. I could also see lots of old old-time cars and
