Okay, not really. Thing is, after I've been in the rink or the arena for a little while, my inner Martian tends to come out. I'm all about getting those perfect shots that put people right there and it makes me more than a little like Peter Boyle in Young Frankenstein before the "Puttin' on the Ritz" scene. Predators staffers and people who have shared a perch with me know to nudge me aside if needed and be prepared repeat whatever they're telling/asking me at least twice.
A big part of this is because I'm now at the point where I put on my laminate and walk into the writers' pit or onto the photographers' perch or into the media lounge because that's where I'm supposed to be. It's my job. And yet there are times I am still that kid who was herded along with her classmates through the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal's maze of desks thinking everyone looked approximately eleven feet tall.
"Oh, snap out of it! Say your mantra" I tell myself, "Now!"
I am Jas Faulkner and I am a paid professional columnist and photographer.
I am Jas Faulkner and I am a paid professional columnist and photographer.
I am Jas Faulkner and I am a paid professional columnist and photographer.
My name is Elmer J. Fudd, millionaire, I own a mansion and a yacht.
My name is Elmer J. Fudd, millionaire, I own a mansion and a yacht.
Okay. Stop it.
Poor Rudy Kalis*. His cheery "Hi!" was met with two cheery "Hiyas!" from me and he got that I couldn't hear him but not that I was already in willing-the-players-into-artful-and-evocative-poses mode. I stepped up on a bench to start snapping pictures and Mr. Kalis motioned for me to take a place at the dasher. I thanked him and told him was puck shy**. I started to raise my camera and was surprised to see Kalis was looking at me and dancing the hula.
I smiled and nodded and snapped a couple of pictures and then when the bech shook as a videographer bumped it that he was trying to tell me it was rickety. At that point, I declared that "Rudy was right!" and got my tuchis on solid ground.
Nonverbal social cues, they're what's for breakfast!***
So. The blades are hitting the ice and I'm playing catch up. I'll see you at examiner.com, Greetings from Smashville! and TheHockeyWriters.com throughout the week.
*For those of you not in Nashville, Kalis is one of the city's veteran television sports journalists. Yes, I know I'm a paid professional and all that, but meeting him is kind of a big deal.
**Wait. What? Puck shy? I got yelled at during a practice last season for standing in the doorway of one of the penalty boxes and snapping pictures as the team skated by at ungodly speeds. Yes it was a stupid thing to do and I now know where to go and where to avoid when taking pictures.
***The anthropology department at Western Kentucky University must be so proud...
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