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...

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Shake and Bake

Shake and Bake
HOW hot was it yesterday? So hot the reporter doffed his suit jacket before fronting his poolside live shot! So hot the photog broke out his still camera just to stave of delirium. So hot our every newscast began and ended with dire warnings of face-melting across the Heartland, Upper Crescent, Golden Valley --  er, the six closest counties. Honestly, the great/maddening thing about being the tip of the spear is your constantly thrust in the middle of the action. If a crushing heatwave falls over your homeland, your undies will be the soggiest. If a blizzard blows in, your mustache will sport the best snotcicles. If an alien space ship hovers over the city, your rectal probe will glow the rosiest... you get the idea. Honestly, when I was in my mid-twenties, being in the middle of the action was the only place I wanted to be. At 44, I'd just as soon take your word for it that mutant crocodiles are rising from the sewer and swallowing pedestrians whole.Why, it reminds me of hurricane season, when otherwise lucid broadcasters fight each other for the right to dodge flying trashcan kids and eye-gouging pine needles.

Problem is, after you do this silly gig for enough years, all that interloping begins to feel normal. I know that when I left news for the placid world of promotions, I nearly passed out from jealousy when my hurricane chasing colleagues struck out for the coast with nothing but hubris Slim-Jims. 'That should be ME out there!, I screamed from my air-conditioned office. A few months later it was, as I shirked the duties of a house-cat hack and took my talents to the front lines. Drought, pestilence, County Commissioner workshops! For the past 14 years, I've braved them all, just so some overly perfumed executive could experience flea and tick season without ever getting itchy. That reminds me, anybody know a cure for heat-induced psychosis? Something came over me the other day while licking  humidity off the live truck and now all I want to do is run naked through the inner city. Pretty soon, I won't even be able to form whole sentences. How will I complain then?

Oh, I'll find a way.

2 comments:

cyndy green said...

I remember my first year OUT of news as a high school teacher. Every time it rained I was inside a heated classroom. Every time the temps rose above 100, the room was air conditioned. When the winter blizzards blew through...well, you get the idea.

Too many folks take comfort for granted.

And that's not to say I didn't LOVE every minute of my time in the field...but to actually sit through weather inside and not have to go outside? Very very different.

Amanda said...

Eh, that's what Twitter is for.

Two working thumbs is all you need and complete sentences are optional.