Editors Note:


EDITOR'S NOTE: Fresh off a three year managerial stint, your friendly neighborhood lenslinger is back on the street and under heavy deadline. As the numbing effects of his self-imposed containment wear off, vexing reflections and pithy epistles are sure to follow...

Friday, November 25, 2005

The Coolest Thing

"How long you been doin' this?" the store manager asked as I hunched over my rig.

"About sixteen years now," I said as I rack-focused the lens off a long row of gleaming iPods, "I think I'm gettin' the hang of it."

The portly electronics geek chuckled at my pat answer and ran his eyes over my Sony XDCam. I was twisting the focal tube when he flummoxed me...

"So what's the coolest thing you ever done with one of these?"

I looked up abruptly from the viewfinder and stared into space. A thousand scenarios flickered inside my head...

...Plucking leaves off treetops from the basket of a hot air balloon, floating over school buses after a biblical flood altered my homeland, stalking deputies as they swung axes on an early morning moonshine bust, driving Unit 4 through a Class 2 hurricane with the car speakers set at 11, hanging off a balcony full of drunk Halloween revelers as illegal fireworks arced and sparked over crowded downtown streets, running from an out-of-control truck and giggling about it moments after, watching the sun rise over the Mile High Bridge at Grandfather Mountain, leaning over a surgeon's shoulder as he sliced into an nice lady's eyeball, chasing SWAT team cops up a training tower as flashbangs echoed off concrete walls, hunkering on the edge of the stage as my favorite college band played their final show, breakdancing underwater with a drowning fancycam, following cops through the door as they rounded up drug-dealers, hovering under the belly of a giant tanker jet in flight as the attack helicopter I was riding in took on fuel...

"Man, that's a tough one," I offered feebly. "I once met Enos from 'Dukes of Hazzard'.

The manager's eyebrows wrinkled behind his bus-window frames as he pursed his lips. "The new X-boxes are over here," he said and walked off, assuming I'd follow. I did, a little less cocky about my exploits but newly determined to come up with a better answer to a question I'd surely hear again. Maybe next time, I'll simply hand them a business card with my web address on it. Anything's better than Enos.

3 comments:

Billy Jones said...

Don't you just hate it when you think of all the right answers when it's too late?

HockeyPat said...

You got to meet Enos?!?!?!

What was he like? What did you say to him? What did he say? Did he tell you some dirt about what he did way back when? Did you get to meet Boss Hawg? How about Head Hawg?

BTW, what's with the word verification? I'm no blogger (not even a blogging poet, JK), but I'm pretty sure nlscs is not a word.

ash said...

Slinger, I have the same issue. I usually tell people about the time I interviewed Ernest Borgnine in his cool custom bus in eastern North Carolina. I don't know why he always come to mind. He's my Enos.