Ace Photographer

Who thinks I can get away with it?

Picture (no pun intended) this...

I waltz in with my most photographer-y looking outfit. Perhaps a knit top over a t-shirt and a pair of black jeans (which I DO NOT own) tucked into strange brown boots (which I DO own). I will not, of course, forget my generic baseball hat with a broken brim that will shield my eyes from the bright April sun. My top-o-the-line camera (actually just a run of the mill Canon SLR- admittedly pretty sweet by my amateur standards) will be casually swung over my left shoulder and my very heavy camera bag will be slung over my right.

I will calmly walk up to Bronson Arroyo warming up (not in the teenage girl hysteria that I approached him last summer) and ask if I could take a few shots for the ummmmmmm what am I taking pictures for again? Anyhow, I skillfully snap about 3 dozen or so and approach him with my note-pad. He slyly slips me his number despite my heinous outfit, I nod to him and immediately begin to snap some pictures of Newbie Crisp. Just as I am wrapping up this particular shoot, I notice 2 blondes to my far right being escorted off the field. A few of the players mumble something about "crazy female fans" and I nod in blind agreement (obviously, I know nothing about hysterical chick Red Sox fans except being one). I am mildly horrified though when I notice that the 2 fans are looking, rather waving, in my direction.

Well, the gig is up. My real identity is discovered, I am stripped of my press credentials, and all Alex, Julia and I have is another close encounter with the Red Sox story.

Let's go all the way this year, ladies.