It's scary how scared we're of the dark, empty, quite night. While standing in the balcony at 3:30 in the morning, I decided I wanted to take a picture of Atlanta downtown sharing the skyline with mist. Stepping out of the apartment door with the expensive gear, noisily walking across the hallway to the elevator, and getting to the 7th floor of the parking garage was a whole another level of decision making. It required contemplation, careful weighing of reward and threat, reminder to buy a pepper spray, intensely alert ears, and courage to infinity. I did it - out and up and clicked and back - but did not feel 100% safe until I was back inside [the apartment] with the door double-locked.
Even when the elevator doors opened, I waited for a few seconds and entered - and exited - slowly, carefully studying my surroundings. The first five minutes on the deck were spent walking around, looking down walls and railings, making sure all was safe. Even when
satisfied with the investigation, gear was being setup by hands, while eyes and ears were still on guard. Buildings weren't lit-up the way I wanted so the photo-shoot was a waste, but even if they had looked perfect, I couldn't have given my entire self to the project.
Crime sucks. Fear blows.
I need a
late night shooting buddy.
