So, I’m in Brother’s Lounge one of these weekends. Some weekend. I don’t really remember which one. Between the booze and narcotics, I’m lucky if I remember to turn on the flash. Anyway, I’m in the Brother Lounge, right.
Well, let me backup. I’m only at the Brother’s Lounge to photography my Go Go Dancer friend, Lani Fox of the Fatal Foxes (www.fatalfoxes.com). She is the little sweet piece of brown sugar in the Christmas outfit. As you can see, my chick bad… Yes, I see the little Latina in the red, too… Look, no offense, but all I’m seeing right now is little Blaxican babies running around the condo. C’mon babe, let’s make mulattoes. Oh man, does she have the cutest little round ass!
Like I said, I’m here for Lani to take picture for the Fatal Foxes (www.fatalfoxes.com) website. I get to the door. I go through my club bouncer molestation moment. Really! C’mon son! I know you know what I’m talking about. Tell me you don’t feel cheap, used and toss aside after you pass through the bouncer. Good, now you know how them boys over at Penn State and Syracuse feel. Eew! Too soon. Okay.
After being accosted, I recover what’s left of my manhood and move on. This is my first time at Brother’s Lounge, so I check out the place. Not bad… Not bad…
Now keep in mind, I’m only here for Lani, but being the nature born hustla I am! I quickly notice that I am the only photographer in the building. I make some moves and eventually bump into the promoter. We exchange a few, “Who is this Asshole” looks and quickly get down to business. I tell him, I’m here to photography Lani, but I’d be more than happy to take picture of the whole night.
I figure why not, right! I’m here. I have a camera. Your bouncer has already weaken much of my resolve. Seriously, if you’re going to touch me like that… you should at least go down to the Arch Bishop and see what priesthood has to offer. You might be missing your calling. Hey, I’m not saying all Catholic priest are pedophiles, but I am saying its possible they might be riding the same bus in to work as the college coaches.
So, I go through my ritual. Camera, check! Drink, check! Lens, check! Another drink, check! Flash, check! Last drink, check! I got my buzz, let’s go in, right! So, I snap off a few shots. You know, just trying to get a feel for the place.
So, I’m doing my thing. BAM!! Right out of the blue. I hear those 3 words that completely burn my ass. “No pictures, please!” No problem, it happens. People have a right to not have their picture taken. Moving on. Again, “No pictures, please!”. Wait a minute, I’m like WTF! And another, and another!
Look, I know I may appear to be just some n***a with a camera. But, please believe me I don’t want your picture that bad. I’ll admit, I get a little pissy when things don’t go my way. It’s just a little frustrate when people start acting like this little picture is going to interfere with their federal indictment. You ain’t John muthafuckin Gotti, put your hand down. Trust me, if you was on the run from the FEDS, they would have been caught you little ass.
Anyway, now, I’m pissed. And I now I’m pissed because I’m thinking to myself. “Look here, Little Ms. Gruesome and Shorty Ugh’Mo, you’re not famous, I can do with the no picture, please!” You should be happy someone is even willing to point a camera in your direction. You know the only reason people ever point a camera ! But that’s another story. Lmao!
I don’t really care, if people don’t want their people. But, as a nightclub photographer, I wish people understood that, that’s how we make our bread and butter. We have to take hundreds of quality picture of an event in a small window of time. If we come back with 50 or 60 pictures because Betty and the Cankle Crew don’t want their picture taken, we don’t get to come back. We might not even get paid.
Nightclub photography is as much a part of the nightclub experience as is waking in up in your own throw-up. So the next time a nightclub photographer walks up and asks for a picture… Just smile, say cheese and enjoy the experience.