“Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to take pictures”, I
said to Kelly when she and I arrived at the Botanical Gardens that fateful
Sunday afternoon. I looked at the clock
on the wall and it was 3:30pm. We bought
our tickets and went inside. I thought that we had an hour and a half to take
pictures. When we went through the doors
into the first garden area, the humidity blew into our faces like an oven, which
I had completely forgotten about. Kelly
sweats profusely when it is over 70 degrees and she started having a meltdown
immediately. Often she will have two
fans blowing on her at work when the air seems stifling. I could already tell that this adventure was
going to be a challenge. I just didn’t know how much of a challenge it was
really going to be.
When I started my blog, Until Morocco, my interest in
photography was piqued. I really didn’t take many pictures before that because
my camera was a Kodak 110 that cost about $20.00 and it produced very poor
quality photographs. By the time I
returned from Africa, the camera was literally taped in various places to keep
it from falling apart. I immediately tossed it in the garbage when I returned
home. So, I used the camera Aziz had brought with him when he came to America. Sometimes the button would jam whenever I
tried to get a shot of something. I
spent more time trying to take photographs than actually acquiring them.
Aziz noticed how much
I enjoyed taking pictures and bought a Canon PowerShot. When it arrived, I
claimed it immediately as my own. It was
the most expensive camera that I had ever used and thought that it was great at
first. That is until I started trying to
duplicate what I saw others publishing on the internet. I would have to take on average 10-20
pictures of the same pose just to get one good shot. Most of the time I was sadly disappointed,
and yet I kept trying.
Kelly is a young woman that I work with. She has thick light brown highlighted hair
with big brown eyes and is quite lovely when she is all made up. She came prepared for a professional photo
shoot with a change of clothes and extra makeup. I was surprised to learn that
she went to modeling school when she was younger and I didn’t really have to
tell her how to pose, which was a relief to me. We had been talking for several weeks about
taking pictures of her for an on line dating site that she wanted to join. Kelly had been divorced for a while and she
wanted some new pictures of herself. I
warned her that my camera didn’t produce the best photographs, but I was
willing to give it a try.
We started the photography session in an area that looked
like it was from out west. There was a
wall that was painted bright blue with a wooden bench which was surrounded by
flowers. She sat down, tilted her head, and
then she smiled. Click. She turned her back to me and then twirled around and
faced me, another click. After going
through all of the indoor gardens, we decided to go outside where the air was
much cooler and Kelly wouldn’t sweat so much. Zoom in, zoom out, sit down, stand up, and
twirl, so many poses, so many pictures. I
think that I took about 400 photographs that day and then it was time for us to
go.
We hadn’t noticed that there was no one in the garden with
us. When we were done, we made our way to the door of the facility. I pulled on
the handle, but the door wouldn’t open. I
knocked on the door multiple times. No
one came. We went back out into the
garden to try and find a way out. By this time, I was beginning to panic. I glanced around and noticed the street. The
gate is surely close by, I thought to myself. After walking the entire perimeter of the
garden, I finally located the gate. It
was padlocked. By this time, Kelly too,
was starting to become anxious. “What
are we going to do?” she asked. “It
figures, the first time I go out on a photo shoot we have to get locked in the
place!” I cried. “Why do things always
happen to me?” It was late and, I too, had sweat a lot and was in desperate
need of a shower. The only thing that I
could think about was clean undergarments and my strict 24 hour change rule. I noticed that there was a fence around the
garden. However, in some places the fence was very tall and other places it was
nearly chest high. “Kelly, I think that
I can make it over the fence. Once I get over, I will help you.” I told
her. There were spikes on top of the
fence. One slip and I would have an extra
hole somewhere in my body, for which I was not too keen to have. Carefully, I swung my leg over the fence,
while holding on for dear life, and gently placed my foot on the other side
being careful not to touch the spikes.
Then I swung my other leg around. Once secure, I jumped onto the grass.
What a relief. “Ok, now it’s your
turn.” I said. Kelly hesitated. She was
wearing very tall wedged bottom shoes, which were very unstable. When I was
growing up we called them platform shoes.
She kept looking around for a better place to try for her escape. Unexpectedly, a man came out of the back door
beyond the padlocked gate. “Hey!” I
shouted, “My friend is still locked inside.
Can you let her out? He looked at
us in disbelief. “Where were you five minutes
ago before I climbed over this fence?” I
demanded. The man insisted that he had
checked the garden before he locked the door.
We knew better. He must have
poked his head outside the door and then went right back in. Once the gate was
unlocked, we thanked him profusely. I
called my husband and told him all about our ordeal. Then he met us at the Hilton Hotel for more
photographs. You would have thought we
would have given up after that ordeal. Like the paparazzi, all I thought about was
the next shot.
