Tourism or Terrorism?
On the eve of our "Independence" Day, I wanted to share a story.
Recently, when I was in Los Angeles, I experienced one of those mind-bogglingly stupid moments that reminded me how thankful I am to be s-m-r-t. I was kind of, sort of, almost accused of terrorism. It's one of those stories I will enjoy telling at dinner tables, get togethers, and other events for a long time.
What I wanted to do was simple, really. We were in Hollywood, so I wanted to take a photograph of the Hollywood sign up in the hills. For those of you who have never been there, this is not as easy to do as it sounds. The Hollywood Hills are not easily accessible from the ground, so the best you can hope for is a shot taken from far away but in full view.
Melissa and I were being driven around by her friend Joey, who had just moved out there a couple months earlier, and he told us of a spot from which he was able to take a good photo of the sign when his mother was visiting. It was from the second floor of a corner shopping center that was anchored by a Target store. In front of the store's entrance was a walkway that led to other stores, the garage, etc., and from there you can see the sign in the distance. I had just fired up my brand new 8 megapixel Olympus and zoomed in for the best shot, beginning to focus, when I heard a very meek voice behind me.
"Ummmm... sir? sir? excuse me, sir? sir?" His high-pitched voice kept repeating this because I kept ignoring him. I wanted my shot, and I wasn't about to let some idiot ruin it. I took a moment, held my breath, squeezed the trigger on my camera, (CLICK!)
then finally turned around.
Standing behind me was a short pip-squeak of a security guard, dressed in completely non-compelling brown, looking at me with a total lack of confidence and conviction. "Ummm... excuse me, sir, but, ummm, you're not allowed to take pictures from here?"
Mimicking his weak, fragile voice, I replied as though I was mortified at my own behavior. "Oh! Umm, gee, I totally didn't realize. I must have missed the sign that said I wasn't allowed to take photographs from here. I'm so sorry! If only I'd seen the sign. Where, umm, where is the sign?"
"We, umm, don't have a sign up? You're just, umm, not allowed to take pictures from here."
This was too easy. "Oh! Oh! Because if there was a sign, I would have totally known about that. There was... there was just no way for me to know!" I continued, using the same ignorant tone of voice. "Just out of, ummm, just out of curiousity... why is it no one's allowed to take pictures from this balcony?"
"Well, umm..." he stammered, "It's because of terrorism? You know, what happened to New York and all that?"
"Soooo... because our own government crashed planes into some buildings in New York, I'm not allowed to take a picture in California?"
"Yes, that's right sir."
I asked him why. "Well, ummm, I don't know? I just have to tell you that you're not allowed to take pictures here? And... so... now I've told you."
I wasn't satisfied with the answer, and under any other circumstances I would have totally pursued this further, but I knew Joey was waiting in the car downstairs and didn't want to keep him waiting any longer.
We left, secure in the knowledge that our country is being so well protected against terrorism. Well, at the very least, it's being protected against tourism, and that's just as good, isn't it?
Recently, when I was in Los Angeles, I experienced one of those mind-bogglingly stupid moments that reminded me how thankful I am to be s-m-r-t. I was kind of, sort of, almost accused of terrorism. It's one of those stories I will enjoy telling at dinner tables, get togethers, and other events for a long time.
What I wanted to do was simple, really. We were in Hollywood, so I wanted to take a photograph of the Hollywood sign up in the hills. For those of you who have never been there, this is not as easy to do as it sounds. The Hollywood Hills are not easily accessible from the ground, so the best you can hope for is a shot taken from far away but in full view.
Melissa and I were being driven around by her friend Joey, who had just moved out there a couple months earlier, and he told us of a spot from which he was able to take a good photo of the sign when his mother was visiting. It was from the second floor of a corner shopping center that was anchored by a Target store. In front of the store's entrance was a walkway that led to other stores, the garage, etc., and from there you can see the sign in the distance. I had just fired up my brand new 8 megapixel Olympus and zoomed in for the best shot, beginning to focus, when I heard a very meek voice behind me.
"Ummmm... sir? sir? excuse me, sir? sir?" His high-pitched voice kept repeating this because I kept ignoring him. I wanted my shot, and I wasn't about to let some idiot ruin it. I took a moment, held my breath, squeezed the trigger on my camera, (CLICK!)
then finally turned around.
Standing behind me was a short pip-squeak of a security guard, dressed in completely non-compelling brown, looking at me with a total lack of confidence and conviction. "Ummm... excuse me, sir, but, ummm, you're not allowed to take pictures from here?"
Mimicking his weak, fragile voice, I replied as though I was mortified at my own behavior. "Oh! Umm, gee, I totally didn't realize. I must have missed the sign that said I wasn't allowed to take photographs from here. I'm so sorry! If only I'd seen the sign. Where, umm, where is the sign?"
"We, umm, don't have a sign up? You're just, umm, not allowed to take pictures from here."
This was too easy. "Oh! Oh! Because if there was a sign, I would have totally known about that. There was... there was just no way for me to know!" I continued, using the same ignorant tone of voice. "Just out of, ummm, just out of curiousity... why is it no one's allowed to take pictures from this balcony?"
"Well, umm..." he stammered, "It's because of terrorism? You know, what happened to New York and all that?"
"Soooo... because our own government crashed planes into some buildings in New York, I'm not allowed to take a picture in California?"
"Yes, that's right sir."
I asked him why. "Well, ummm, I don't know? I just have to tell you that you're not allowed to take pictures here? And... so... now I've told you."
I wasn't satisfied with the answer, and under any other circumstances I would have totally pursued this further, but I knew Joey was waiting in the car downstairs and didn't want to keep him waiting any longer.
We left, secure in the knowledge that our country is being so well protected against terrorism. Well, at the very least, it's being protected against tourism, and that's just as good, isn't it?