Chances Are You're a Photog

If you keep a mental list of low overpasses, clean skylines and greasy spoons, chances are you’re a Photog.

If you feel socially awkward at cocktail parties, yet will gladly walk into a police sniper’s crosshairs with a loaded tripod slung over your shoulder, chances are you’re a Photog.

I f you can make a three-story escape ladder from your collection of press-pass lanyards, chances are you’re a Photog.

If your idea of proper funeral attire is a pair of wrinkled cargo pants, unpolished hiking boots and a station golf shirt buttoned all the way to the top, chances are you’re a Photog.

If you know just where to go should the mayor be brought up on illicit yak-smuggling charges, chances are you’re a Photog.

If you’ve grown to a despise a new co-worker just as half the state has deemed them favorite regional newcomer, chances are you’re a Photog.

If you find yourself admiring the backlight shimmering off the pizza guy’s hat as he hands you your third deep-dish of the week, chances are you’re a Photog.

If you feel any SUV with enough splashy logos should be allowed to exceed the speed limit in the breakdown lane and park in handicap spots, chances are you’re a Photog.

If you know more than one overnight dispatcher, two fast-food managers and three obese bailiffs by first name basis, chances are you’re a Photog.

AND FINALLY...

If you can field-strip an expensive piece of recording equipment in two minutes, but still pretend not to understand the newsroom’s phone system, chances are you’re a Photog.