Redlights and Redeyes

On the surface, very cool assignment.  In the end, very cool assignment.  Everything in between?  Absolutely insane.

I was sent out to cover some of our bars here in downtown Sarasota which the paper was dubbing “hot spots.”  Most of the night was spent holding cameras over my head trying to wade through a crowd of sweaty testosterone, spilled Red Bull and Vodkas, and women mistaking my accidental bump of the cheek (the other one) as an invite to grind.  Not so.  Check out the ring.  It’s big and heavy.

Oh, and most of the conversations had over the thumping of a Lil’ Wayne or Lady Gaga song went a little something like this:

(click)(click)(click)(click)

me:  ”Hey, Can I get your name?”

her:  ”(941) 555-1212″

me:  ”No, your name!?”

her:  ”What?”

me:  ”I work for the paper and want your name to go with the photo I just took.”

her:  ”Oh, it’s nfilnl**@a834@(wiortawrg;omfg”

me:  ”Can you spell that?”

random dude doing nothing behind me:  ”Take my picture!”

me:  ”Hold on.”

her:  ”Are you single?”

me:  ”No.  I just want your name.”

her:  ”Oh, here.”  (grabs my hand and scribbles something illegible I try to translate 3 hours later.)

me:  ”Thanks, this is running Thursday in the Hera -” (cuts me off)

her:  ”Wait, what?”

me:  ”Gin and Tonic.”

her:  ”Yes!”

other random dude:  ”Man, you have a fun job…get paid to go photograph chicks all night?”

me:  ”If only that’s all I had to do, man.  Food and white guys in suits aren’t going to photograph themselves.”

random dude:  ”What?”

me:  (off to find another awkward conversation)

Mind you, the average age in this town is about triple the median age in these photos, but I tell you what, I have a renewed faith in this town.  It’s not just because the handful of bars and clubs I visited last weekend (Horse Feathers, Ceviche, and the Ivory Lounge) were packed, it’s just that there was this vibe in the air like “Hey, we’re all stuck here in paradise, so let’s enjoy it.”  I get that vibe downtown now.  I get that vibe along Central Ave.  I get that vibe in Siesta Village.  I get that vibe at the Cock N’ Bull.  I sometimes feel it myself.  Living in God’s Waiting Room isn’t really that bad.  It’s changing.

It’s not Vegas or NYC, hell, it’s not even Ybor City, but it’s fun.  Even if you’re on assignment.  Not drinking a free gin and tonic.  Twice.

This entry was posted on Friday, January 8th, 2010 at 11:20 pm and is filed under photos. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.