Work With That
Saturday. Another clear sky morning, a normal somewhat larger breakfast crowd at the usual café, the thought maybe I should add the weekend New York Times to the weekday subscription as the Saturday Chronicle by itself doesn't cut it. So OK, it's early in the morning, the mind is barely functional, most of the components haven't even started.
The Oakland Holiday parade kicks off at two, I'll head down around noon to shoot pictures. It was suggested I should get photographs of Miss California, who will be in the parade. Not sure who Miss California is, what she looks like, but I assume she'll be obvious, what with the Miss California sashes and the like she'll undoubtedly be wearing. Not to mention the crowd of old fart photographers who will be following her around quacking like ducks juggling their cameras.
You feel you have to justify taking a picture of Miss California?
Well, no. You can always use another photograph of the Misses California of the world, at least until rigor mortis sets in.
Later. So I hopped the bus with the cameras and wandered around the downtown shooting pictures as the parade formed up, memories of past parades coming back: mostly kids in high school marching bands, a whole lot of bikers in their motorcycle clubs, a line of Ford Mustangs next to the Marriott hotel, one of which set aside, I'm sure, for Miss California. No, I didn't get a picture of Miss California when I realized the people who'd be in the cars, including Miss California, would pop out of the Marriott at the last minute, take their seats and drive off into the parade. I wasn't waiting around for that, certainly not. My habit is to shoot 'em as they're forming, not actually attending or watching the suckers, you understand. There's a certain minimum standard one must uphold as a photographer and skipping out before the parade starts is one of them.
Pretty poor excuse, I'm thinking.
Well, indeed. I shot less than sixty pictures, got maybe three I like, maybe four I'll post. There are one or two things I would blame this on, but I'll skip any of my standard “it was all its fault” routines. Two hours of walking, humping cameras. I'm good with that. A gingerbread latte at Peet's, a bagel at the City Center bagel shop, altogether a good afternoon leading into what I'm thinking will be an excellent Saturday evening. Except for the pictures. Can't complain just because I didn't get any pictures, right? Right? No sake in the larder, though, but we can work with that.
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