The flash was subtle. And at that moment, I'd bet a ten spot it was aimed in our direction. I scanned the street in my gangsta 'who da fuck takin' pictures of me?!' stance. No one there but some shirtless guy in the shadows walking in the opposite direction. I followed a faint ting of wine glasses, laughter, and women in mid conversation to an upper apartment window 30 feet away. Ahh, it must be them.
I eavesdropped for a second but couldn't hear what they were saying. It'd be nice to be a fly on that wall. Women, like men, talk some funny stories in all-female space. Men aren't the only pervs on this planet. (I digress ... we'll save that one for another post).
Flash! Another light. This time it doesn't bother me as much but I use the instance to entertain myself until my homeboy returns. Maybe the flashes are coming from CIA operatives following me and these other guys--the ambiguously gay duo who fight off injustice in plain clothes and frequent restaurants in LA. Or maybe my friend's friend has a jealous boyfriend and has hired some technologically inept gumshoe to take pictures of us dropping him off. It seems your partner is doing this other man's laundry -- see the big bag that looks like a stack of dirty clothes.
Fifteen minutes later my friend returns to the truck -- maybe it was a quickie. We pull away from the curb and I tell my friend about the flashes.
Flash! Another damn light!! I look to the left and I can't believe what I see. It's the shirtless paparazzi! The guys been lurking there in the shadows this whole time, snapping pictures of us arriving, me chilling by the truck, and now he's got a picture of us leaving. I slam on my brakes and put the truck in reverse. My friend says, 'Oh God, testosterone in overdrive. What are you doing?' I can't resist the need to get to the bottom of this. In one swift motion I back up and pull my camera from it's case. I tell my friend to take a picture of this guy to see how he likes it.
I scream out. 'Hey man, what's going on!? Why the pictures?!'Are you fricken kidding me!? I grab the camera from my friend--whose practically peeing his pants--and snap a few shots in his direction. What's the shirtless paparazzi do? HE POSES!!
He answers, ' Oh, I just like taking pictures. It's a hobby of mine.'
We share some brief but extremely awkward niceties. The guys strange--to say the least--but just another LA character. What you gonna do.
This is the first picture taken through my sunroof by my nervous passenger.
This is my first picture taken in a 'how do YOU like it?' manner, which didn't quite produce a response I expected.
This is my final picture, not really understanding what the hell is going on here.
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