Clash of the Titans

Sure, we're all smiles now, but just minutes before this photo was snapped, Richard Adkins and I were locked in mortal camera combat. I considered it a honor. But then again, I've clocked this formidable photog for years; watched his stuff on WRAL, read his thoughts on b-roll.net, coveted his hi-def lens from afar. I'd just never met him. That changed this morning of course, when - shortly after arriving on the scene of a sleepy feature, I felt a powerful disturbance in The Force. Looking up, I saw why: a shaggy figure slingin' tricked-out gear and giving no quarter. Instinctively, my frigid knuckles curled into a fist as I took in the markings of a fellow apex predator. 'Shit', I thought. "Howdy!" I hollered.

He didn't answer. Dude was in battle-mode. Barrelling past me, the man known as 'Rad' headed straight for the clutch of Mexicans who were slipping a girdle of sorts over a 20 foot Fraser Fir. Not about to let some out-of-towner eat my lunch, I fell in behind him as I fished my wireless microphone out of a pocket. Game. ON. The next ninety minutes are still a blur. Like hyped-up Jedis we spun, parried and backflipped all over that Christmas tree farm. The future of the universe wasn't exactly at stake, but you'd have thought some kind of galactic title was up for grabs by the way we battled for the better shot. By the time the behemoth tree fell, I was bloodied, bruised and ready to grapple to the death if that's what it took to best this legendary lenser.

Thankfully, it didn't come to that. In fact, when every conceivable shot was committed to disc, Adkins and I chatted for a bit - before slowly backing away from each other. Nice guy, that Rad. Be a real shame to see him forget to white balance, double-punch or get sucked into a wormhole. You know, metaphorically speaking...