By Carrie Donovan
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, February 22, 2001; Page HO15

"Die! Die! Die!"

Er, actually, the crowd is shouting "Dai! Dai! Dai!" to cheer on sword swallower Dai Andrews. It just sounds like they want him to foul up.

Lifting a large, curved sword from his collection, Andrews carefully plunges it down his throat to explore the pit of his stomach during a recent show in Baltimore. The routine requires that he bend his body slightly forward and to the side, and that he stifle his gag reflex.

At 23, the Ellicott City native claims to hold the world record for swallowing a sword with the largest curve (the blade he uses follows an almost 90-degree bend). The claim can't be proven since the Guinness Book of World Records no longer includes a sword-swallowing category because it's too dangerous.

Among the estimated 50 professional sword swallowers in the world, swallowing curved blades is rare, says Andrews. And swallowing a very curved sword just isn't done, he says -- except by him.

Saturday at 8 p.m., Andrews brings his act to Columbia with a benefit performance for the Maryland Food Bank at Slayton House Theatre in Wilde Lake Village Green.

Andrews has been working on his act for six years. Although he's had a few odd jobs here and there, the sideshow-type act has been his only career.

It began when he was 17 and a friend recruited him to demonstrate and sell a kit of magic tricks at Tysons Corner Mall in Virginia.

The shop packed up and relocated to Disney World within days, but Andrews didn't move with the company, partly because Disney would have made him cut his long wavy hair (now waist-length).

Instead, the young magician happily accepted a free box of tricks as his severance package.

From there, Andrews taught himself some new tricks. Within six months, he could eat fire and escape from a straitjacket. Taking things a step further, he decided to perfect more sideshow acts like lying on a bed of nails and sticking a nail up his nose, an act known as "The Human Blockhead."

Now Andrews probably works more hours than he would at a regular job. Not only does he perform as much as possible (sometimes several times a week) but he also does his own marketing, Web coding and prop building.

Andrews did not simply wake up one day and stick a dagger down his throat. Nor did he start with a kitchen knife. In fact, he began with blunt objects -- bars of aluminum (sword-shaped but duller). The trick was learning to resist gagging, then move on to actual swords.

In his act, Andrews also progresses from least to most difficult. It adds suspense. With a flourish, he advertises an assortment of swords on stage as "all real, all steel, all the way down my throat" and begins with a 12-inch dagger. A few tentative licks, then down the hatch, up to the hilt. A 24-inch sword follows. Like the dagger, Andrews amazingly can accept the blade's entire length. He even bows with the sword still inside.

The kris, or serpentine blade, requires him to shift his Adam's apple to the side. He can even bob his Adam's apple to music, preferably to the alternating timpani beats in "2001, a Space Odyssey."

After a set of increasingly difficult feats -- some involving swords, some not -- he brings out the big gun: an almost scythe-looking blade he helped forge himself.

Andrews considers the blade, possibly wondering if it will kill him. The pause quiets the audience. Every eye is on him. Then he opens wide and it slides inside, forcing a bow slightly to the side.

Andrews loves performing. His job has taken him to England, Ireland, Spain, Italy, France, Germany, Austria and the Czech Republic. It was in Europe that he picked up the curved sword idea after meeting Wasp Boy, a member of England's Circus of Horrors. In exchange, he shared his kris blade secret.

Andrews' two worst experiences occurred in Europe.

Once on the crowded streets of Barcelona, he overextended himself and tried to work too many consecutive shows. Internal bruising resulted, making it painful to eat solid food for days.

The second scare also came in Barcelona. After an incident-free performance, Andrews was wiping down his blades when he noticed something reddish-brown on the tip of the kris sword.

Momentarily, he believed he was bleeding internally and feared he couldn't get proper medical attention.

"What's the number for 911 in Spain? How do you ask for an ambulance? And once I got to the hospital, how on earth would I pantomime my situation to the doctors?" he recalled. "These were the sorts of things running through my mind."

Luckily, the reddish-brown substance turned out to be hot chocolate, not blood. Lesson learned: Don't eat or drink anything that can stick to the sword.

Closer to home, Andrews performs extensively at Renaissance festivals, universities and corporate banquets on the East Coast. His show for the Maryland Food Bank will be done with fellow Marylanders Brian Rudo, a magician and juggler, and guest emcee Robert Strong.

For the food bank performance, he'll use a more child-friendly routine. Swords will be swallowed but "The Human Blockhead," for instance, will be cut and replaced with magic tricks and possibly some escape artistry.