Like a Bull in the China closet of History
You'll never guess what I put my head through yesterday! ...I like the sound of that. Perhaps this will become a weekly installment: Win a fish, guess what Casey put his head through this week! I'll start posting pictures of the corresponding fleshwounds to give people a clue. *Jeopardy music plays in the background* give up? A plate glass window in Biloxi's Civil War Memorial Mansion. It survived a land war and two massive hurricanes only to fall victim to my shiny dome of doom.
What had happened was: I get out of the tool concert (awesome concert btw, in spite of the sucky sucky sucky opening band) and get a phone call from Heather. Dave is out of town and roommate Owen is a no-show. She needs someone to drive to Biloxi with her in the morning to film a wedding. I assure her I don't know what I'm doing, but out of desparation, she still wants me to come. So I go to the awful-waffle with the rest of the tool concert peoples and nap from about 0230 to 0600 so I'm good and sleep-deppy. I take care of the three 'S'es, donned black slacks and black dress shirt and we head to Biloxi stopping enroute at a starbucks blaring mexican-restaurant music much to the dismay and confusion of employees and customers alike.
Arriving at the wedding was awesome, they had no idea I didn't know what I was doing. Apparently a five thousand dollar camera and a black outfit make you look unusually competent. I've never felt less so. It was like impersonating a surgeon about to go into a surgery that I knew nothing about. This was the record of their very expensive once-in-a-lifetime wedding, and I'm a jerk in a black outfit who just learned which was the business end of the camera in the parking lot behind the mansion. I can barely operate a 500$ camera, let alone one an order of magnitude more expensive. You wouldnt believe how many buttons knobs dials menues submenues and modes there were. I think I accidentally launched ICBMs at Canada during one of the intermissions.
The mansion had this big wrap around porch with windowy doors that slid up to open. Apparently in their old age, the mechanism that kept them in the up position started to fail. Over the course of the evening, one of them lowered itself to the magic height just between the top of my head and my line of sight. Looking intently at some new indecipherable warning flashing across the camera, I walked quite briskly into it. Broke the glass, cracked some wood. It made a god-awfull noise and my knees buckled just a tad. A few people asked if I was okay, but I sortof just walked it off. I now have a nice scab in the middle of a developing bruise on the very top of my head. Fortunately, most people arent tall enough to notice.
What had happened was: I get out of the tool concert (awesome concert btw, in spite of the sucky sucky sucky opening band) and get a phone call from Heather. Dave is out of town and roommate Owen is a no-show. She needs someone to drive to Biloxi with her in the morning to film a wedding. I assure her I don't know what I'm doing, but out of desparation, she still wants me to come. So I go to the awful-waffle with the rest of the tool concert peoples and nap from about 0230 to 0600 so I'm good and sleep-deppy. I take care of the three 'S'es, donned black slacks and black dress shirt and we head to Biloxi stopping enroute at a starbucks blaring mexican-restaurant music much to the dismay and confusion of employees and customers alike.
Arriving at the wedding was awesome, they had no idea I didn't know what I was doing. Apparently a five thousand dollar camera and a black outfit make you look unusually competent. I've never felt less so. It was like impersonating a surgeon about to go into a surgery that I knew nothing about. This was the record of their very expensive once-in-a-lifetime wedding, and I'm a jerk in a black outfit who just learned which was the business end of the camera in the parking lot behind the mansion. I can barely operate a 500$ camera, let alone one an order of magnitude more expensive. You wouldnt believe how many buttons knobs dials menues submenues and modes there were. I think I accidentally launched ICBMs at Canada during one of the intermissions.
The mansion had this big wrap around porch with windowy doors that slid up to open. Apparently in their old age, the mechanism that kept them in the up position started to fail. Over the course of the evening, one of them lowered itself to the magic height just between the top of my head and my line of sight. Looking intently at some new indecipherable warning flashing across the camera, I walked quite briskly into it. Broke the glass, cracked some wood. It made a god-awfull noise and my knees buckled just a tad. A few people asked if I was okay, but I sortof just walked it off. I now have a nice scab in the middle of a developing bruise on the very top of my head. Fortunately, most people arent tall enough to notice.