Free Ride

Some people thrive on weather coverage. They love trudging through the elements to demonstrate to viewers why they shouldn't have left their homes. I tend to enjoy hunkering down and letting the storm pass. Is it a weakness? A personal character flaw? Call it what you will, but when the buck gets handed off to one of the storm hounds, I'm not raising a commotion. And while this year has been mercifully dry, it wasn't without incident. Last week I found myself stuck in the same spot on Highway 80 for over 3 hours, without a bathroom or Burger King in sight.

It was a long and slow evening, where we just barely made our slot. Aside from that, I just don't like driving in the snow. I'm just glad that this is limited to a small portion of every year 'round these parts.

The only problem with this whole situation is that I really love the snow. Snowboarding is one of God's great gifts to man, which I've been embracing since the age of 11. I'd gladly welcome a hearty dumping of snow on a regular basis if I didn't have to go chase it down every time it passed through.

Last weekend, I decided it was time to cash in on the recent storms and head up to Tahoe with some cronies and cohorts. Finding a surprising spot of luck, we managed to hit the slopes on the only two days of the past few weeks that didn't face a snowstorm. Perhaps that's just Old Man Winter's way of saying "Sorry about that freeway incident. We're still cool, right?" I'll cut you some slack this time, OMW. But watch yourself.

Along with the days spent tearing up the mountain, there were a few local gaming facilities in the area, and we all know I'm not one to pass up a night at the tables.

After being up... and then down... compliments of roulette, I decided it was time to call it quits before digging myself too deep into trouble. Heck, with this economy... you know. While tailing some of my well-wishers around the casino floor, one offered to cover me for a quick hand of blackjack, as he didn't want to play alone. "What the hell," I declared. "One hand never killed nobody." A short time later, I found myself, as well as my companions, surrounded by chips. With that, I decided to call it an early night (4 am) and retire to the hotel with my $250 in winnings. Not bad, considering that I was about to call it a night at -$60. The one quick hand managed to pay for the entire trip. I'll take it.

Alright, Old Man Winter, you've bought yourself some slack by hurling us a bit of luck on the weekend adventure. This doesn't mean things have cleared up between us, but for now I'll say that the effort was appreciated.

Begging for a Budget

Times are tough, and it ain't easy living on a budget. This is especially true when you're the tenth largest economy in the world, and those who are elected to set the budget can't agree on anything. As if the national bickering over stimulus plans wasn't enough, we in California have been experiencing a deadlock of our own in trying to set a state budget. A counter outside Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger's office provided a constant reminder that every passing second pushed California deeper into debt.

On day 104, or last Tuesday, I found myself watching as the State Senate finally put this budget issue to rest, even if it meant staying all night. Armed with sleeping bags, tooth brushes and sheer determination, these public servants went to work caucusing, and caucusing... and caucusing. A 4 PM scheduled reconvening became 6 PM. Then 8 PM... Then Midnight. Yes, the work day came and went without incident. We ended up packaging a separate story (a member of the State Assembly rescued a drunk driver who was trapped in a burning vehicle after an accident, a much better story) before returning to find that little had changed since our departure.

As we were waited patiently (and the OT started racking up, much like the budget clock), we suddenly heard a commotion in the hallway. Why, it was Senate President pro Tem Darrell Steinberg, and he was gonna make a statement! Snatching cameras from their tripods, the Media Elite stormed towards the hallway to find that Steinberg had already begun his statement, and the scrambeling began to obtain it.

Unfortunately, I was unable to place myslef within the inner ring of the crowd, and was forced to enact the age-old photog strategy of turning the viewfinder towards the ground and hoisting the heaftey camera above the head. A terriffic strategy, for sure, but damnit those things are heavy, and boy do those politicians like to talk.

After several minutes, my elbows began to buckle and the camera began to waver, yet he wouldn't stop talking, slamming the Republicans for their roadblock efforts. Finally, I had to rest the camera on top of my head, forcing my neck to take part in the agony. Of course, I realized that I must look ridiculous, but I figured that I was at the back of the pack and no one would notice the comical display of ENG desperation that my life had become.

Then, two days later, a friend forwarded me an email from another friend, who happened to be reading the LA Times. Included with the following picture was this comment: "Who is that crazy guy cramped over to the right? I am surprised he still has his job since he was filming the back on someone's head."

Good to see my late night efforts were being recognized. Fortunately, the photo wasn't taken moments later, when my arms gave out and I actually ended up shooting the back of someone's head.

So the following night, I almost got sent back for another late night go-around, but I played the "I'm dayside tomorrow" card and was able to dodge the bullet. The crew that went ended up staying until 6 AM when, believe it or not, the budget was actually passed!! Thank God I missed that one, as I had to be in at 9.

So, after 106 days and a 45 1/2 hour meeting (the longest Senate session in history), the budget crisis has come to an end. Well, there are still drastic cuts being made to schools, public transportation and various other programs, but at least the Governor finally got to take that counter down.

Good to see that the system still works.

Amgen: Thievery and Moisture

After placing tenth in yesterday's Amgen Prologue, the mighty Lance Armstrong awoke to find that Sacramento isn't quite as lovely as it had seemed the day before. While he and many other cyclists slept soundly in a local hotel, someone decided to take it upon him or herself to give these folks a true Sacramento welcome by breaking into their trailer and stealing a number of bikes, including Armstrong's time trial bike used the day before.

Hope you enjoyed your stay.

The day didn't get much better following this discovery, as the wind and rain ravaged Northern California in a way that it hadn't seen all winter. Unfortunately, this was also the first day of the race, where they were to travel 108 miles from Davis to Santa Rosa. Indeed, conditions were rough.

But this didn't deter the fans from braving the elements (and the inside-out umbrellas), as they once again arrived in full-force to see a legend in action.

With a torrential downpour, high powered winds and frigid temperatures, I was bombarded with flashbacks to my younger days of working the sidelines at Oregon football games. Isn't California supposed to be the Sunshine State? Oh wait, that's Florida. Now you tell me.

But a little rain never hurt anybody (insert Katrina joke here... too soon?), and it sure as heck wasn't about to stop this guy:

Hope, as they say, was ready to ride again. I, as I say, was ready to climb back into bed in a desperate attempt to raise my body temperature back to a healthy level. My hands had long since lost feeling, which I had all but accepted as a sad truth by the time the racers finally lined up. But hey, at least I didn't have to ride a bike back to the station in these conditions. You'd have to be an idiot to ride a bike in this weather! Oh... sorry.

And with that, they were off on what Armstrong would later call one of the worst racing days he had ever seen. But don't worry, there's only... seven more days to go?! That weather forecast had better have some of those happy suns wearing sunglasses in the coming days, or the "Tour of California" might not be doing the state any favors.

At the end of the wet-n-wild day, Lance finished in fifth place, proving that Hope is still alive (in case you had forgotten). Personally, I hope that the weather clears up, that the race is a good one, and that they catch the crackhead that tries to sell Lance's bike on Craigslist. I also hope that the crackhead agrees to a jailhouse interview. Welcome back, Hope. We missed you.

Amgen: The Prologue

About a year ago, I got a call from a chum who wanted to head downtown and check out this bike race that was going on. The 2008 Amgen Tour of California was set to finish in downtown Sacramento, and with the day off from work, I figured I might as well wander over and see what all the hubbub was about. It was certainly an interesting experience... we sat around drinking beers at a local restaurant for about an hour, then went out to the curb and watched the race go by. The cluster of bikes, which couldn't have been more than a few seconds apart from each other, whizzed by and provided about ten seconds of entertainment. We then returned to our beverage consumption.

Seeing as how I'd never experienced a bicycle race in person before, it was an interesting (and brief) endeavor. Now, one year later, the race has returned to town. Only there was one small difference about this time around...

Yes, recently returning from a 3 1/2 year hiatus, the mighty Lance Armstrong has decided to participate in this year's Tour of California. With that fact backing the race, the Amgen suddenly became quite a bigger deal than it was the last time around (at least as far as I could tell, and being the 'cycle enthusiast that I am (in that I understand the fact that people ride bikes for fun as well as competition), I was sure to grab myself a front row seat). (Actually, I had to go for work, but I wasn't about to complain.)

This year, Sacramento hosted the "prologue" to the race, which was basically a time trial to decide the order of starting positions for the first leg, beginning tomorrow in Davis. Every minute for the next 136 minutes, a cyclist would take off on the 4 minute 30 second (or so) course circling the State Capitol. After witnessing last year's brief pass-by, I have to say that this makes for a much more interesting event.

Of course, most of the thousands of spectators that came out were there to see one man in action. It's the same reason that VS. was broadcasting the event live, and sending it to over 90 countries. Yes, Lance Armstrong was back, and ready to compete.

At the end of a surprisingly dry day (it was supposed to be a torrential downpour, which was originally going to be our sidebar story), Lance placed in 10th. By all accounts (AKA people that actually know what they're talking about), that ain't bad. Tomorrow, we head to Davis for the first of eight stages, which eventually finishes in SoCal.

Once again, torrential downpours are in the forecast. I'll be out there rockin' the stills, and if Lady Luck shines down upon us like she did today, it'll be a beautiful day for a race. But I'm dustin' off the waders, just in case.

B2B: Game Over?

It was not quite a year ago that I discovered a whimsical and magical place. A place where there were no rules or laws, where the alcohol flowed freely and clothing was optional. A place where you could talk politics with a gorilla, then turn around and hop on the Love Boat and cruise through a sea of happy faces. I speak, of course, about the annual Bay to Breakers 12k race through San Francisco.

In its 98th year, it gathered over 60,000 participants, costumed and float-toting, for a unique parade through the streets of the City by the Bay. I was there, and I must say, I had never seen anything quite like it.

It was amazing, mostly because I had trouble believing that we could get away with all this. Every float carried a stockade of kegs, people you didn't really want to see naked marched proudly through the streets, and the severe lack of port-o-poties made for a "go where you can!" mentality. Was it OK for this to be going on in the middle of a busy metropolitan area? Probably not, but everybody seemed cool with it... so hey, when in Rome!

So as the days counted down until this May extravaganza, I'm sure you can imagine my pain when I stumbled across an article in the San Francisco Chronicle, declaring The End to Bay to Breakers as We Know It. Indeed, it seems that there is to be a "zero tolerance" mandate on alcohol consumption, nudity and float-toting during the race this year.

"No," I said. "No, this must be a typo. There must be some kind of mistake." As a tear slipped from my eye, I looked up from my newspaper and out the window at the sun shining in. The world just didn't seem to be as glorious as it used to. The chirping of the birds seemed sorrowful. The laughter of children seemed contrived. Without this exposition of drunken debauchery and celebration of artistic freedom to look forward to every year, then what, pray tell, do we have to live for?

It is a sad day in America. Next up, I hear they're trying to ban drugs from Burning Man, then it'll be outlawing beads at Mardi Gras. It's a slippery slope that the country has embarked upon, and I pray that they see the error of their ways before it is too late.

So how many drunken jackasses will show up to the race in protest of the new rules? That is yet to be seen. I just hope that this isn't the end of an era... just a slight and temporary misjudgement that will soon be corrected, so we can get back to what the race is really all about...

Concert Photog, Round 2

Coming off of a successful first time out shooting photos at a concert, I had been looking forward to another go at it. After perusing through a local periodical, I came to find that there was a rock n' roll quartet playing in town. "This should make for a merry ol' time," I declared as I slung my camera over my shoulder and went skipping down the street to Arco Arena, where a band calling themselves Disturbed was waiting to hit the stage.

I gotta say, shooting concerts us a fun gig, especially if you like the band playing. Overall, this round was a little trickier than the Metallica show, mostly because the stage didn't seem to be lit as well. With Metallica, they had a 360 degree stage in the middle of an arena, so you had the audience in the background for all the shots and there seemed to be a lot more lights. Shooting fast moving objects in the dark can be tricky, and I wish more of the shots had come out clearer, but it's only my second time out, and getting to learn by shooting these bigtime acts rather than some nobody in a club isn't a bad deal. Still, got a lot to learn, mostly about settings on the camera. Now, on to the show...

Same deal as last time, which seems to be the golden standard- Shoot the first three songs from in front of the stage, then you're out. No watching from the back, no dilly-dallying or hanging around, but that's understandable, being there for business and all. While I enjoy the occational Disturbed melody on the radio, I wouldn't call myself a major fan and decided that three songs would be enough to satisfy my interest, so I opted to skip buying a ticket this time around and take what I was given.

But first, there was opening act Sevendust, a band that I first came across about 10 years ago. Back then, they were opening for Megadeth in the Bay Area, and my high school friends and I had never heard of 'em, so we were making fun of the name on our way into the city. If you say the name with a thick German accent and picture your typical German techno group, it'll make for some good laughs. At least, until Sevendust hits the stage and makes you eat your words.

I've seen a lot of live acts in my day, and these guys have always stood out for their unmatchable level of energy. I don't know what they eat for breakfast, but I need to get me some of it. I saw them once again a few years later, and both times they stole the show.

I kinda lost track of them since my headbangin' high school days, but it was clear that they hadn't lost any of their ferocity over the past decade. There have been a lot of "nu-metal" bands hitting the scene since then, most of whom sound pretty much the same. But in my mind, these guys have managed to set themselves apart, primarily through their "all systems go" concert performance style. If you get a chance, check 'em out, I don't think you'd be disappointed.

Now on to the main event... Disturbed.

As I said earlier, these guys have got some catchy songs, and I was at least curious to see what kind of a show they put on. I will say they do a fine job. After they cranked through the first three songs and I took it all in through the back end of a viewfinder, I found that they pretty much matched my expectations. Their songs sounded good live, which isn't something you can say for every band. No big pyros or explosions, just the band cranking out their heavy brand of crunching rock, which the audience of punks, no-good-nicks and parents with their children sang along to adoringly. Their energy level didn't quite match that of the previos act, but they still put on a pretty good rock show.

So the evening should have ended there. However, just before they took the stage, I happened to cross paths with a certain local sports anchor who was wandering around backstage, and just so happened to have an extra ticket in his pocket to his suite. Giddy-up.

So, much like with the Metallica adventure, I found myself sprinting through the parking lot to dump my camera off in the car and get back to the show, all the while wishing I had spent more of my time exercising so that I wouldn't be completely winded as I walked back into the venue.

I got a few strange glances as I dashed into the elevator, gasping for air, and headed up to the suite level. Then it was back to the rockin'.

Now, while I was certainly grateful to be there, I have to say that suites are basically the worst seats in the house, but with a mini kitchen. It's nice to be able to stand around and chat with people, and have the privacy of a room separated from the "normies" of the audience, but they are placed as far back as you could get. Even behind the nose-bleeds. It was certainly cool to be in there, and it made me feel like a VIP (only because no one realized I wasn't), but they should go back to the Lincoln-style seats, where you've actually got the best seats in the house. But since I'm not really important, I decided to keep my mouth shut and just appreciate the fact that I was there.

The rest of the show was good, despite the background curtains getting stuck about halfway through, leaving the backdrop to 3/4 a demonic looking guy and 1/4 a bunch of people with their fists in the air. It was certainly a different perspective, going from the front of the stage to the back of the venue, but it became clear that the audience of the not-quite-sold-out Arco absolutely loved these guys. The entire place was on their feet, singing along, pounding their fists. I didn't know the words, but the energy emanating from the crowd was undeniable, and I couldn't help but bang my head along to the songs like I used to in my younger days. Not bad, Disturbed. Not bad.

Thus concludes round 2. Round 3 is yet to be seen... although I did hear a rumor that this guy is passing through Chico in March. It'd be a bit of a drive, but I can't think of anyone else I'd rather see in action. To be continued...

Hometown Hero

"Hero" is a term that's thrown around fairly loosely these days. Webster's dictionary defines a "hero" as being "One that possesses the qualities of a hero". It's not often that you actually come across someone that fits that definition in everyday life. Just days before last week's historic inauguration, a potentially devastating plane crash nearly claimed the lives of 155 passengers in New York, which could have led to a very different shadow being cast upon January 20th. I'm still blown away every time I see pictures from that day.

That's where the hero comes in. Sure, he was just doing his job, but in doing so he managed to save 155+ lives and prevent a national tragedy during already difficult times. Is he a hero? He doesn't think so, but the thousands that gathered for his homecoming in Danville, California beg to differ.

Captain Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger III made his first public appearance since the crash at a Welcome Home ceremony this afternoon, where his heroic actions were embraced and broadcast throughout the world via cable news. And, like any true hero, he declined any of the glory.

"We were simply doing the jobs we were trained to do," he said in a brief speech to the adoring crowd. He didn't want or ask for the attention, he was just happy to help.

Not bad for "just another day at the office". Captain Sully, new member to the Photocalypse Hall of Heroes (also featuring this guy).