Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Gaffer Tape Calisthenics
S-K-R-I-I-I-T-C-H! Fwop. Fwop. Fwop. S-K-R-I-I-I-T-C-H! Fwop. Fwop. Fwop. By the time the strange cadence began a third time, I was up and out of my seat - curious to see who was disembowling a woodchuck behind my live van. Imagine my delight when instead I found a lovely TV reporter I'd yet to meet. S-K-R-I-I-I-T-C-H! With a practiced flip of the wrist, she unrolled a length of purloined gaffer's tape and dabbed (Fwop. Fwop. Fwop.) at the all but invisible lint on her black slacks. I stood there in admiration as the reporter do what it took to feel comfortable on-air. I was thinking of a similar vista when she looked up, saw the digital camera cradled in my hand and begged for mercy. "Don't take a picture of THIS!" she said - never breaking away from her unauthorized fuzz hunt ... She should know better than to to say THAT that to a photog.