Eyes On The Prize

It's all over but the shouting now. Voting is closed, the ballots are being counted and, if the gods are smiling on a lonely phone booth out in the Mojave Desert, plaques saying "Mission: Hang It Up" are being engraved even as we speak. Thanks to everyone who voted for The Booth, bigger thanks to everyone who slapped the voting link on their page, and a really big neener-neener to all you stinky ol' poo-poo heads who voted against it just because I hurt your delicate widdle feelings. (He said maturely.)

The awards ceremony takes place Thursday in New York, NY (the town so nice they named it twice), and by God, I think it's only fitting that someone should be there to pick up the award. So tomorrow morning at the Godawful early hour of 7:00 a.m., Señor Amaya, his lovely wife Viv and their precocious young daughter Amy will be swinging by to pick me up enroute to LAX, where Steve and I will board a flight to the Big Apple.

We'll be there for five fun filled days and nights and, as Bill Watterson used to say through young Calvin, "The days are just packed." We're both coming loaded for bear with camera equipment and we plan to shoot that city 'til it's dead. I'm thinking we'll also get all touristy and take the Circle Line tour; I have meals planned for us at Katz's Deli on the lower east side, Sammy's (great skirt steaks and the best chopped liver this goy's ever had), and Puglia in Little Italy (if it's still there); we're catching a Yankees day game Saturday; we want to do some shooting in Washington Square Park; and of course there will be the awards ceremony Thursday night.

I also want to stop by B&H just to touch the Holy Grail of mail order photo supply, and I'm going to try to find AAA Camera (their address is rumored to be just a mail drop) so I can taunt them to their faces: "Hey, remember that letter you got in February that started out with 'You guys are crooks ... but you already knew that'? I sent that letter, you pricks. And remember how you tried to rip me off on that lens I ordered from you, but I went through my bank and got back every single penny you stole from me -- just like I said I would? Well, check out the lens I bought from B&H with the money I got back from you. Bite me, you inept wanna-be thieves." If I can find them, that is. Not that it's important to me or anything...

So we'll be there, Steve and I, in the City That Never Sleeps, and frankly I'm looking forward to getting some good sleep while I'm there. I'll miss Beth and Zoe, of course, but I won't miss Beth hogging my half of the bed or Zoe draping herself horizontally across what's left and kicking me in the head all night long. No, I won't miss that. Of course I don't know Steve's sleeping habits, but if necessary I think I'll kindly but firmly make it clear that, no, his hand doesn't go there. Or there either. I think it'll be fine. Assuming, of course, that he booked us a room with two beds like I suggested.

So we'll be there, in New York ... and I can think of at least one New Yorker who I'm pretty sure definitely doesn't want to see me while I'm there ... but I suspect she doesn't speak for the rest of you. So if any of you other New York area readers would like to do a meet and greet over coffee while we're there, drop me a line. We'll be wired via laptop while we're there, so I'll be picking up e-mail (and maybe even posting entries -- ooh!) and maybe we can set something up.

One last thought before I wrap this up... If (when) we win -- Who gets to take the award home? Use that as your topic while you talk amongst yourselves, and consider this: Steve might have me on tallishness, but I think my mean streak balances that out. Hmm, somebody might want to think about starting a pool on this...

(Just for the record, I do feel a little bad about what I said about Andria. A little. For whatever that's worth.)