A friend of mine works a desk job near the front door of a bank. At precisely the same time that a woman walked through the door approaching his desk, his phone rang. She hovered for a little bit and then gave up and walked out of the bank. My friend finally got off the phone and ran out, escorted her back in and helped her. His actions were so above and beyond that his coworkers noticed, told the higher-ups, and he got promoted.
I often ask myself if I would have done the same thing. To be completely honest, I don’t think I would have. He was on a work phone call. Is it his fault the woman showed up at the same time? And by walking out of the bank, she must have been pretty pissed off. Who would want to run after that person? “Let me get up and run out into the parking lot and track down this person and their negativity and invite them to sit down across from me!” Yeah, I don’t think so. But it’s that kind of work ethic, that sort of devotion, that gets you farther in life. Or at least, that’s what the fairy tales tell us.
But, as with all things in life, eventually, you too will find yourself in a place where you have to choose between taking care of yourself or taking care of your job. It’s a defining moment, both for yourself and the job. And that is precisely the situation I found myself in when I was photographing “Twelfth Night” in Soulard.
I don’t know how I managed to miss a lot of the basic experiences all other St. Louisans have had. Perhaps most people in St. Louis know that “Twelfth Night” is the night the Soulard bars officially announce they are having another Mardi Gras. There is drinking and revelry. Pretty standard stuff. I didn’t know what it was. I read the description and I had my instructions for the evening. Go to Johnny’s and photograph “Twelfth Night” and then hit a few other places. Easy enough. So, I drove to Soulard, parked my car about two blocks away from Johnny’s, took off my coat and walked up to the bar.
Now, this is key. Why did I take off my coat? Have you ever tried to walk around a crowded bar with a bulging camera bag, the most expensive thing you own (the camera) AND a coat? It’s not easy. So, when possible, I leave the coat in the car and suck up the cold walk to and from the bar.
It took me about three minutes to figure out that I had made a horrible mistake. Not just because I was only wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt and a scarf (more decoration than anything else), and not just because all of the cold air hit me all at once like a freight train, but because little did I know that “Twelfth Night” is a pub crawl! That’s right: a pub crawl. And not a regular pub crawl where you go inside and drink, and then hit another bar. No, this is a completely outside-based pub crawl. That would have been helpful to know.
So here I am, in a t-shirt, two blocks away from my coat, facing at least an hour of outdoor work. But, this is the busiest this event is going to get. From here on out the number of people will dwindle and at that point, you aren’t sure what sort of photos you are going to get. So, this is the question, the defining moment: do you go back to your car and get the coat – potentially sacrificing the best pictures you are going to get all evening or do you suck it up and do what needs to be done?
And that’s how I came to be known as “the girl with no coat” all night. But, on the plus side, I have never felt more embraced by a group of strangers. Almost everyone offered me their coat at least once, some even more. Was I cold? Yes! Of course, I was cold! But I had screwed this up and I was willing to face the consequences. For a full hour, I walked around Soulard gripping my camera bracket as the feeling slowly left my fingers. If it hadn’t been for the completely ornamental scarf, I honestly think I wouldn’t have been able to do it. When I finally made it back to my car the first thing I did, of course, was put my coat on. It was a surprise to me that I literally couldn’t feel my arms.
Still, I did it. And for that, I’m proud of myself.
So there you have it. The question of whether or not I would run after the woman at the bank has been answered. The answer is yes. For my job, I would run around in thirty-degree temperatures with no coat and photograph drunken revelry.
And, for all the kindness, caring and joy of the “Twelfth Night” crawlers: Laissez Les Bons Temps Rouler! See you soon. I’ll be the girl wearing a coat.