"What if it rains tomorrow?"

"What if it rains tomorrow? Or, you know, God forbid, a tragedy or something and you can’t make it! Then what? You’re gonna wish that you stayed out those extra couple hours no matter what you do when you go home."

I thought that was a metaphor.
It was a figure of speech - an explanation for the work ethic of this one particular Chicago street performer. Despite the freedom of life on the streets, despite the ability to choose where you work, when you work, and for how long you work, there is a specific kind of constraint that comes with that kind of independence.

For one, you lose the safety net that comes with working for a larger company. Paid sick days don't exist: you work, or you don't make money. That would, of course, be the case with any self-employed individual.

But the constraints are more basic than that... and the recognition of that constraint comes when you realize that the metaphor isn't just a metaphor.

I got a text message one afternoon in early June of 2014. In preparation for an observation that day, I asked a busker about his performance schedule. He texted back, "Brought my rig just in case but it doesn't look like this rain is going to let up anytime soon."

What if it rains tomorrow?
Basically? If it rains, you don't work. Or you can try, but your audiences aren't likely to stop. I didn't realize how literal that quote was until Jeremy (a street magician) read my thesis and nodded in agreement with that question.

"You know," he had explained to me, "you could lose money to the weather. Um, a rainy Saturday could be a fairly expensive proposition for a street performer."

One drummer covers up all his gear at the first signs of rain, out of fear that the water would damage his instruments. For him, losing busking income was one thing. Losing the tools of his trade was a bigger risk.

What that means for the performer quoted at the beginning of this post - and what it means for many professional street performers - is that they work even when they don't need the money. They work because one day, it's going to rain, they won't be able to work, and they're going to need savings to fall back on.

There's freedom in street performing - but for the most successful ones, there's discipline as well.

The winter months drive most performers indoors or down south to New Orleans. Some stop busking entirely. Then there are some who, on occasion, face Mother Nature in a tense staring contest. The Tin Man, for example, works every weekend through the winter months in spite of Chicago's biting cold.

Jeremy, known among fellow magicians as a hard worker - and described by them as "an animal," spoke of the coldest temperature that he has worked in: "The coldest I've ever worked out here in Chicago was four degrees, minus four degrees Fahrenheit. I didn't work for very long. It was only because it was the Festival of Lights and there were people here downtown. I didn't make a whole ton of money but some people stopped, and I did it just to prove that I could do it."

While the weather can drain a performer's revenue, it can also act as a different source of value - one of pride - for the busker who shows up to work in spite of extreme weather conditions.

So the next time you see a street performer working outside when all you want to do is run inside, stop for a second and take a look (and drop a buck). If they're out there in that weather, and they seem to think they can still entertain some people, they're probably pretty good.

(Please forgive the lack of pictures. Thanksgiving weekend made it harder to get a post in this week... and, er, maybe last week's horrible cartoon can make up for this week's... lack of pictures).