Glass at the Impasse

Of all the places my fancycam has dragged me, perhaps the most perilous is the governmental meeting. Sure, there's more danger down at the Sheriff's sally port, what with all those shackled crackheads and bad cop mustaches. And the highway can be hazardous when you're passing gas in the breakdown lane. And don't get me started on the zoo! That alligator may be hibernating but he's probably dreaming of cameraman crotch. But of all those exotic locales, nothing strikes dread in this 'slinger's spleen more than the fluorescent confines of a county owned conference room. Which is why today's assignment was so very dire, as I perched above a room full of constipated wonks and waited for the shite to take flight...

It. Never did. Oh, there was tension. You can't trap this many overdressed politicos in an enclosed space without kick-starting the drama-thon. I mean, these are important people! They've got tailors and constituents, preferred parking and a DVR bursting with their favorite newscast cameos. Most of them even mean well! They can't help it if the come across as third rate James Bond villains. It comes with the scenery (which, incidentally, usually includes some cameraman or another muttering about housecats, batteries and traffic). But for all the ill will generated by these warring factions, the people of Guilford County should be proud of these less than civil servants... No ultimatums thundered down. Gang-signs did not appear. Why, nary a switchblade was even pulled! That makes for a higher level of discourse, certainly, but it can be damn boring to document...

So I let my mind wander. Like a prison inmate who manages a flower shop in his head, I fired up the synapses just to see where they'd take me. I stared at the ceiling tiles and wondered if they'd hold me, should I seek higher ground. For the longest time I tried to move a nearby paperweight with my mind, but when that didn't work I checked my iPod Touch for the thirteenth time - just in case a wicked cloud of wi-fi passed by... When none did I turned my attention back to my fellow photogs - but they were all embarked on their own catatonic journey. I admired their powers of concentration for a moment before scanning the crowd for any signs of toupee. When no particular rug jumped up to be noticed I began reciting old Rush lyrics - until my fevered falsetto scared the lady from District Six. Finally, I centered myself, stared out the window and wondered if all this inactivity might make for a half-decent blog post...

Told ya it was risky.