Clean Room

“Bless me father, it has been a few months since my last blog.”

(That is for the Catholics in the reading audience – otherwise, I’m sorry I haven’t written for a while – but now I do have lots to talk about.)

Most recently was my trip to Manassas Virginia on a work detail. I had a one day shoot with two days of flying – I have a new found respect for those who fly much more than that every month. There is a lot time spent in airports, baggage claim as well as on the plane itself, that just isn’t productive.

The company I worked for did all the arraignments in my flights – they weren’t aware of my need for an aisle seat and Claustrophobia issues when sit by the window.

Most of my flights were on the aisle, however the first one I was stuck in the middle for a two hour flight to Denver. I got lucky when I tried to upgrade and the guy at the desk took pity on me and gave me the last aisle seat. I think he bumped some kid to a middle seat. The downside of this “upgrade” was that I was seated in the Spanish speaking child section. Did I say "Spanish speaking?" I meant Spanish YELLING! – These were without a doubt, the loudest kids on planet earth, at least over planet earth, that day. Even my nephews from Florida would have had a hard time keeping up with these kids on volume scale.

At one point I had had it with the noise. I couldn't even hear my movie through my “child screaming canceling headphones” –I kept thinking Clint Eastwood was speaking Spanish to me. I had to do something. Finally I turned to them and yelled: "Leache!" (The only Spanish word I know) and they just looked at me with shocked looks on their faces. I knew I had them with that line. A couple of seconds passed and then they went back to screaming at each other as if I had said nothing at all. A lot of good that high school Spanish class did for me.

I arrived safe and sound with all my bags – it was a little dicey there at first until I found out they put my tripod case with the golf clubs – maybe the airlines just figured I'd gravitate to that section of baggage claim eventually.

The company I was working for was very nice – they put me up in a Residence Inn – breakfast buffet in the morning, appetizers at night – and quite a spacious room. It was kind of like a little apartment, but without the annoying neighbors. It had a living area, a kitchenette – a nice soft bed – just like home but although there was no dog nuzzling into the crook of my arm in the morning. As a joke I asked the guy I was working for if he could get a dog in there to help me out – he kind of looked at me strange – as if he'd eaten a bite of bad fish. I guess he doesn’t get California humor.

One day, I had to photograph in a "clean room". I assume you all know, but if not, it's a room in a high tech facility that does everything they can to keep dust out. They make you wear booties over your shoes – boots over your booties (I thought this was overkill myself) a tight fitting jump suit, and a head bonnet so that none of my hair could fall out onto the semi conductors. I mean come on – it’s not like I have lot left to fall out? They tried to get me to wear goggles over my glasses – but I would have none of that, siting the creative hand cuffs that goggles would present. Finally a woman working there says; "Oh, you need a face mask for your beard."

I'm like are you kidding me? I have a damn head bonnet that barley exposes my eyes – I look like Lloyd Bridges from Sea Hunt for crying out loud! What do I need a beard protecting mask for? After a small protest – she told me to wear it anyway.

So she hands me this beard mask – essentially a hair net for the face – and I notice that it has been used. I really didn't want to wear a mask that someone else has already breathed all over. So I hand it back to her and say, "The elastic is worn out, (it was after I yanked on it a few times) – can I get another?"

So she looked flustered and went to get another one. I don’t think getting a choice of masks for the temperamental photographer was high on her list of things to do that day. I figured I cashed in my one free chit – so I was going to have to wear the next mask no matter what. She came back from around the corner and handed me “used mask” number two. I'm telling you – this is not a lie – that mask smelled. Whew! I didn’t expect that – there was no doubt that this mask had been used before. I should have known as she kind of had a sly grin as I put it on.

This is what I don’t get. I was asked to wear a new bonnet, a new jump suit and new boots that were hermetically sealed in plastic bags – but the one thing I have to wear over my mouth and nose is the “one of three masks” they have for the whole company to share!

I spent the next hour smelling someone else’s Korean Barbeque lunch inside the mask and let me tell you, the mask was the first thing to go when I was able to get out of my clean room disguise.

That's it for now - more to come later.