Time slowed to a non-rock & roll crawl as I watched two underfed Cutty (as in Sark) girls roll duct tape in their hands, stick them to the bottoms of tiny goldfishbowl-type candle holders and affix them to the tops of amps and other onstage electronica at the Cold show last night. Like other somewhat frenzied roadies they took their tasks very seriously, as if the awaiting crowd or sound men were watching and judging them. Rolling. Sticking. Affixing. Moving. And then the lighting of the little onstage candles. Cutty Girl #1, in cowboy hat, before the band lumbered to the stage, announced that if the crowd "drank a shitload" of Cutty then they could meet the band. I wondered if the band knew about this. Cutty Girl #1 chewed her gum and talked. One of my security buddies commented that collectively the Cutty Girls were "not the brightest lights in the harbor." Which harbor, I wondered. The band came out and it should be noted that they drank Molson Canadian and crappy bottled water - not a glass or bottle of Cutty Sark in sight.
Today I shot a fun and happy wedding. I was booked via a brotherly referral and correspondence but when I saw the bride I felt like I knew her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. A whole bunch of Mexicans were at the wedding and, as luck would have it, I mentioned to one of the groomsmen that I'd do a shot of tequila with him at the end of my gig. Word quickly circulated that this photog indulges in tequila and then I'm talking to the Mexicans and I mention that I dig Herradura but I say it like a Yankee and they say OHHHHH!!!!!! Herrrrrr------ahhhhh-doooooo-rrrrrrrrrrahhhhh.
Then, next thing I know, I'm doing shots of some primo Agave with the lot of them - and the bride. Did I mention that I told them and the bride I don't drink a drop when shooting a wedding? Well then we all did another Agave shot. Life is good.