Well, tonight at the Chinese restaurant it wasn’t. It wasn’t two weeks ago at the laundromat, either. The camera used to ride with me everywhere. I was naked without it. Lately it’s sat at home more often than not. And two weeks ago, while loading that gigantic quilt into the dryer at the laundromat, when I saw the “Designed for Windows 95” case badge stuck to the machine’s lower left corner, I wished then I hadn’t left it at home. That should have been my lesson learned.
The cute little number who works the counter at China Cafe wants to be photographed. She just doesn’t know it yet. But she’s not the reason I’m beating myself up tonight. As I strolled through the door, content with the Singapore noodles I was about to inhale, I made it about 3 paces and stopped. It couldn’t be him. He’s been gone for so long. But it was. At least in profile. There sat St. Ansel himself, munching on beef with broccoli, glasses perched upon his bald head, and trying to keep the gravy off his beard. He never noticed me, but the people at the next table did. And they were staring at me like I was Doogie Howser incarnate.
This happens a lot. I see people, situations, things that beg for the glass and the shutter. I just never see them when I have the camera in my pocket.