I woke up in a van. Third row bench seat. A stack of tour t-shirts as a pillow. The humid Arkansas air was stale when the van door opened. In a daze, I gathered my batteries, camera bag, laptop, and my trusty suitcase. Looking down at my legs, I was impressed that they were carrying me to my hotel room. Mechanically, they churned forward and my eyes watched like they were witnessing something foreign and removed.
Plugs into outlets, batteries on charge, teeth scrubbed with tooth paste, I’m into bed and was out quickly.
The heat wakes me first. Baking the hotel room’s window. Roll out of bed. Select clothes for the day. While trying to keep my bag neat to avoid re-packing it.
Assemble the Canon 5d MII and 24-70 2.8 lens. Snap in the CF card. Snap the battery door closed. Kick on the self timer. Depress the trigger. Spring on to the top of the mattress. Count the flashes in the mirror. Listen for the beeps. Bounce in anticipation.
BEEP…BEEP…BEEP BEEP BEEP. The shutter clicks open for what seems like ages. Longer than 1/400th of the second that I’m airborne. While my eyes scan the mirror for the flashes and ears reach out for any indication of timing.
CRASH, the mattress catches you like a baseball into a mitt. I try to relax. Keep my body loose. Spring back up and press the trigger again. Repeat. Jump. Crash. Review.
I landed on my right middle and ring finger bending them un-naturally backwards. It stung. Like catching a fast line-drive in the webbing.
by Will
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