It was the last day of a long run at Toronto's "Canadian National Exhibition", North America's largest fair. We were performing 10 shows per day. It seemed like more. Besides miscellaneous tasks in the Medicine Show, I performed the only magic trick, the Linking Rings.

The words just came out of my mouth like they always did the previous two hundred times during this engagement. It's part of my regular patter. Why should this show be any different? I have invited two children to be with me on stage. I'm on auto-pilot and everything is running smoothly. Why should I pay attention to details? This show is just like every other show. An audience is just like any other audience. Right?

So, I said it. Just like I did every other show.

I said to the boy standing on my right, "Hold out your hand".

He extends out his left hand closest to me. I'm glancing out over the vast audience of at least 2000 people. I'm oblivious to the heat of the summer, the long days of repeat shows, and the appearance of the people I come into contact with. I don't care. I just want to go home.

Then, immediately I say to him, "No, the clean one".

As the last word stumbled out of my mouth, my eyes finally looked upon the boy whose face and body I never paid attention to until now. Just when I expected him to extend his right arm to facilitate my incredibly funny?, stock line; he had no arm. NO ARM! Just a few, small, atrophied "fingers" that protruded from his shoulder. But.. no arm.

That haze I felt quickly melted away as the embarrassment flushed through my body and my heart felt as if it fell to the floor. I don't really remember what happened after that as I'm sure my built-in, auto-protection response wiped away whatever remnant of that event lingered in my mind.

Because of that day, I always look carefully at my audiences - my assistants. I remind myself that people are not just props that we performers use to help us magicians complete our effects or get a laugh at their expense. All people on our stages deserve respect and manners just like everyone else, even moreso. Indeed, it's the willing help of these spectators that can make or break the outcome of our performances.

My onstage character can get away with much - and I often do. However, when my assistants go back into the audience, my actions, my words and my manners all indicate that I respected those that helped me. My assistants know it and my audiences do too.

Just the simple habit of paying attention to your audience helpers and showing them respect will go a long way in getting the respect you deserve as an entertainer. If nothing else, it will definitely keep you from putting your foot in your mouth!