I am taking pictures at the fashion show that closes out Harvest Fest in Hillcrest Saturday night. This afternoon the lady in charge of the production was called away by a phone call while explaining the drill to me in her shop.
"Excuse me," someone said.
I turned to behold a tall young white kid resplendent in tattoos and dreadlocks. And I do mean tall. He had to be at least 6' 7".
"Excuse me," he said again. "I hate to eavesdrop. But did I hear correctly that you are the photographer for the fashion show?"
"I'm one of them," I said while looking up at him.
" Do you have a makeup artist?"
"Do I have a what?"
"Do you have a makeup artist? Because I'm the best," he said with an offhand gesture, palm up to the sky. Replete with slight curtsy and eyes cutting to ceiling to emphasize what passed for his point.
"I do events. I don't do fashion," I said.
"So you wouldn't have one."
"Does she-she being the lady running the show-have a makeup artist?"
"I have no idea."
"Well, I'll go ask her. Because she needs to know that I'm the best."
Back when I worked for the government was disseminated on a "need to know basis." It was never information like this and I have my doubts that I will ever need to actually use it. And while I don't know much about this young man's industry, even if he's not the best makeup artist in the business, I would wager that he has got to be the tallest.
I also know that you just can't make this stuff up. And that obviously there's a slice of life out there that I never much encountered while sitting in a law office all day during my previous incarnation.
Saturday will be interesting.