hope you get to be happy sometimes

It was a work project. Taking Polaroids of all the touristy spots for a client in Chicago. We spent 3 hours on a sunny Friday afternoon walking around the market and looking up at the Space Needle. We made friends with the fish mongers and Chris wished out loud for us to run into a Mariner’s player as we photographed Safeco Field. He said it with such youthful optimism that I asked him if he was nine. A giant 9 year old. Who could drive. And was entrusted with a company credit card. It was my little retrobutionary zing for saying the reason he didn’t have a myspace page was, and I quote, “because I’m almost 30.” Yeah.

Kay held the bobble head we had made tour mascot and I snapped the pictures. I had to search all over the city for a Polaroid camera the night before. The only one I have left is almost 22 years old, black with a rainbow stripe up the left side and uses flashes that haven’t been made since the early 90s. Everywhere I looked had film but no cameras. I struck gold at Walgreens and $40 later I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. It’s sliver and space age and cool. We shot almost 20 pictures. 20 times standing in a three person huddle, squinting in the sun and waiting for the picture to turn from drab olive green to the not quite kodacrome colors we all remember Polaroids to be. Wanting to shake it. Eyes peeled for recognizable silhouettes. The immediate critique of the shot. “Yeah, that’s a good one.”

We ate lunch at the pier and I paid an extra $2 to upgrade the fish in my fish and chips to halibut instead of cod. Cod reminds me of poverty and I always think halibut is the fish with both eyes on one side of its body. But that’s flounder. Hey. Had I been able to upgrade from french fries to tator tots, I woulda done that too. We all used a lot of ketchup and talked about regional names for things like tarter sauce and grandma made Jell-o salads. Chris is the right mix of alpha male and goofball. Kay and I play side kick and offer up the right amount of jokes at his expense to keep him in line. Come 3 o’clock my cheeks hurt from smiling. They were a little sunburnt, too.

Kay and I encouraged Chris to take us on a trip through the drive-through Starbucks on the way back and this is where you can take a second to hate me for lobbying for something so lame as a drive through Starbucks. It’s not like I don’t already go there almost every day with Diana anyway. But you know. Admitting it is a little sketchy. I told Chris I wanted the giant passion tea and that is exactly how he yelled it into the speaker. We decided to pay as a team since our triple threat outings were getting to be common place. Kay got this time. I’ll get next.

Stepping off the elevator on the 8th floor carrying a pink iced tea the size of my forearm, I felt almost guilty for the afternoon I’d had. I worried that my sunburnt cheeks and salt water smell would give me away and I’d be questioned about how dare I have fun at work and don’t I realize we’re in a revenue crisis. But instead. The quirky Polaroids getting the best of me and a revenue crisis no where in sight, I plop into Steve’s visitor chair and slide them across his desk. They are great he says. Asking if we had fun. Asking who took the pictures and who’s bobble head it was. Offering tips on the proposal and wishing us luck in closing the deal. Telling me to keep copies so when we win sale of the month, he’ll have handouts for the first time ever.