Confessions of a Beauty Pageant Videographer

This fall I’ll be working as a videographer for four Miss USA pageants. I'll try to Blog as I go. First up - North Carolina!

The Journey begins.

As I sit here typing this, an elderly woman 10 feet away is slowly strumming a guitar and singing “House of the Rising Sun.” That in itself is not a horrible thing (although I loath that song), but the truth of the situation is in the details. I sit here on an uncomfortable grey plastic seat on an ass that lost all feeling hours ago. Gate D-36, Thurgood Marshall Baltimore/Washington International airport, waiting on my 8:00 flight to New York. It’s currently 8:45. I left the dojo in Leesburg at 3:45, and began a 65 mile journey that would take precisely 3 hours. Which is a average speed of 21.6 to infinity mph.

I just heard the would-be guitarist saying that she’s taking a class and besides “House”, they are also learning Wish You Were Here, Pink Floyd. Should I walk over and teach her? To bust my skills out upon this terminal of delayed passengers? Maybe. I don’t play much anymore, but I’ll never forget how to play that song. It goes against my nature, which is to sit here typing this blog and not do anything to get myself noticed. Also, on a side note, no hotties waiting on this flight.

Washington traffic is a big fat bitch. I get to the airport at 6:45. Shuttle to the terminal by 7. Check in by 7:20. Through security and to the gate by 7:35. I had to use my Olympic level Fast-Walking skillz to accomplish this. And then I see the big red DELAYED sign above my gate. Our plane hasn’t left New York. It’s raining across the entire eastern seaboard. (note: eastern seaboard is a fantastic phrase. I recommend using it whenever possible.) The plane leave NYC around 8:45. Might be here in an hour. I type these words at 9 o’clock. Air travel is a big fat bitch also.


9:45 and we’re in the air. Remember in Raiders of the Lost Ark, when Indy takes off in the prop plane and it dissolves to a map with a glowing line that traces the flight? That’s what kind of plane I’m in. It’s the sound of the engines that takes me to that scene. 36 seats, only 17 passengers, 2 pilots, 1 flight attendant (I swear it’s Barbara Streisand), 1 guitar (I didn’t play it) and 2 propellers. I commend U.S. Air for the quick turnaround of this plane. But I really don’t think they had time to fuel it. Guess I’ll find out in about 30 minutes.

If you ever fly into La Guardia in NY from points south, sit on the left side of the plane. Awesome views of Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty. Sox up on the Rocks 2-1, top 7. C’mon Rockies, don’t get swept like punks. Grrr….they’re calling my flight, NY to Greensboro, North Carolina. Then on to High Point, home of the world’s largest chest of drawers. I ain’t bullshittin’!

I arrive at 1:30 am. I could have drove the 300 miles in 6 hours, instead, doorstep to hotel bed, 10 hours. I'm retarded.