I hurried out of the hotel Wednesday
night to take my photo story. The one of Martin Paz, the hot dog man. I’d been planning it all day and had the shots to tell my story all planned. I hoped
there was enough light. They said sunrise and sunset made good lighting, so I might be good.
As I approached the park, Rats! He wasn’t there. Time to re-enter search mode. Hmm. There’s a bus station
with a taxi waiting. That has possibilities. “May I take your picture?” “Sure, let me start the meter.”
“Click.” Man leaning on taxi. Too dark. “Click.” Man talking to another taxi driver. Too dark. “Oh well. Can
you take me to the El Tropicana? And take the long way so I can take more photos.” (I wonder if this is a reimbursable expense.)
I take the photos to MSgt Burris. Nope. He kindly takes me outside to show me some stuff. Better luck tomorrow.
Thursday is bright and sunny. Mr. Paz is there. He had to take his wife to the hospital on Wednesday for a follow up. She’s fine. “May I take your photos? One hot dog, please.”
“Click, click, click, click.” Now I need more photos of making a hot dog. “One more, please.” “Click, click, click” (Urp) “Another hot dog, please.” “Click, click, click.”
Now I need a model to shoot while eating a hot dog. (Not a good idea, I found out later.) I find a woman who will gladly eat a free hot dog among a group of down-and-outers on the park
bench. Testing the shot, I find she has a nice face.
Time to get back to the hotel. “Let’s see. That’s four hot dogs and a coke. Keep the change.” (I wonder if this is a reimbursable expense.)
Whale song is coming from my innards as I hurry back. MSgt Bunting looks at the photos. Some are OK. Happy day.
“But try this,” she says. “And this and this and this.” Go back and try again.
Time for another (urk!) hot dog.
“Click, click, click.” This time I’ve got it. Back to the hotel with a quick stop to, um, wash my hands in the powder room and on to MSgt Burris.
“These are good. And so are these,” he said. “Go back and get these four more shots.”
(Urp. Ork. Gulp) Time for another hot dog. I wonder if Mr. Paz would like some hotel cookies.
Me and the whale song traipse back to the park for one more series of shots. This time I get something that MSgt Burris can work with. Yippee!
It was good (errrrrk) to be able to shoot and (oorrruup) get feedback and shoot again right (blooooooop) away. Thanks MSgts Burris and Bunting.
Oops! Gotta go.
night to take my photo story. The one of Martin Paz, the hot dog man. I’d been planning it all day and had the shots to tell my story all planned. I hoped
there was enough light. They said sunrise and sunset made good lighting, so I might be good.
As I approached the park, Rats! He wasn’t there. Time to re-enter search mode. Hmm. There’s a bus station
with a taxi waiting. That has possibilities. “May I take your picture?” “Sure, let me start the meter.”
“Click.” Man leaning on taxi. Too dark. “Click.” Man talking to another taxi driver. Too dark. “Oh well. Can
you take me to the El Tropicana? And take the long way so I can take more photos.” (I wonder if this is a reimbursable expense.)
I take the photos to MSgt Burris. Nope. He kindly takes me outside to show me some stuff. Better luck tomorrow.
Thursday is bright and sunny. Mr. Paz is there. He had to take his wife to the hospital on Wednesday for a follow up. She’s fine. “May I take your photos? One hot dog, please.”
“Click, click, click, click.” Now I need more photos of making a hot dog. “One more, please.” “Click, click, click” (Urp) “Another hot dog, please.” “Click, click, click.”
Now I need a model to shoot while eating a hot dog. (Not a good idea, I found out later.) I find a woman who will gladly eat a free hot dog among a group of down-and-outers on the park
bench. Testing the shot, I find she has a nice face.
Time to get back to the hotel. “Let’s see. That’s four hot dogs and a coke. Keep the change.” (I wonder if this is a reimbursable expense.)
Whale song is coming from my innards as I hurry back. MSgt Bunting looks at the photos. Some are OK. Happy day.
“But try this,” she says. “And this and this and this.” Go back and try again.
Time for another (urk!) hot dog.
“Click, click, click.” This time I’ve got it. Back to the hotel with a quick stop to, um, wash my hands in the powder room and on to MSgt Burris.
“These are good. And so are these,” he said. “Go back and get these four more shots.”
(Urp. Ork. Gulp) Time for another hot dog. I wonder if Mr. Paz would like some hotel cookies.
Me and the whale song traipse back to the park for one more series of shots. This time I get something that MSgt Burris can work with. Yippee!
It was good (errrrrk) to be able to shoot and (oorrruup) get feedback and shoot again right (blooooooop) away. Thanks MSgts Burris and Bunting.
Oops! Gotta go.
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