Normally Strange

I am hiding in the back of the International Café. Self quarantined because of contagious crabbiness. I woke up with the wicked sads. No reason, no conscious dream, just there. Hovering in my throat like a crooked Dorito. I try to write it away, but I end up daydreaming instead.

It’s too trite to detail, but let’s say I am wandering – of course aimlessly – with my camera. A 62 year old woman in a colorful print dress is reading in the park/in a coffee shop/on a stoop. She watches me for a while, then asks ‘Child, are you lost?’ and I say ‘Yes, in a way’ and it ends with a book deal– and 50% of the proceeds go towards establishing a community center. In-between, some hilarity, wacky characters and touching silly moments. I have watched way too many movies. Bad Hollywood programming.

The daydream illuminates my struggle with photographing strangers. I know a huge part of it is fear – but another part is me being uncomfortable with the aggression. For me, and many others, snapping anonymous pictures is a form of hunting. If they are not anonymous, then the aggression and a large part of my fear is gone. Solution - talk to people first. Trade one hiccup for another.

Full and caffeinated I get on the Metro, red line towards Glenmont. It's empty.


When we pull up at the Glenmont station, another train is positioned in the opposite direction. It’s a NEW train. Pretty and shiny. I get on it. I decide to get out when I see light again, which happens to be Silver Spring. Thankfully, I left my mood somewhere on the metro. I feel bad for the person that finds it.

I scout locations for photographs when the light starts to dim later. Although, found this one midday. For class - we have to take a photograph of a silhouette.



I need to pass the time untill better light. I see a movie with the scrubs guy. Average. Still need to pass some more time, so I go to a pub. The pub is quiet, just the bartender and a whisky drinking bearded guy at the corner of the bar. The bearded guy is wearing a wool grey blazer and a baseball hat. I order a Boddingtons and take a few photos



The bearded fellow watches me “What kinda lens to do you have there?”

That opens the conversation and the three of us discuss Irish bands, Silver Spring bar scene (or lack of one), revitalizations of downtowns, crime and other news topics. I pick up assorted background details. Matt the bartender grew up in Silver Spring and Tony the bearded fellow is originally from London but he’s lived in DC for over twenty years. We talk about moving and Matt said if he could take his friends and family, he would move to San Diego.

“I have never been but I hear the weathers like this all the time.” Matt points outside to the bright 3pm sun.

“Aren’t you excited for the fall? I got my blazer out just for the hell of it today.” Tony puts up the collar of his blazer and chuckles.

“Not at all, do you know what it’s like not to have hair.” Matt rubs his shaved bald head. “You know when you eat an ice cream too fast, that brain freeze that you get. Well that’s what it feels winter feels like on my head.”

“You need a hat man. A good hat” He pulls off his baseball hat and reveals a wicked mess of grey hair.

“I forget hats. I have thought about taking the drugs, my friends have had good luck, they just can’t stop taking them or they lose the hair. ” Matt is touching to top of his head again.

I ask about side effects and Matt laughs. “Oh yeah, impotence. Kinda defeats the purpose of growing hair.”

Tony tips his head up. “Impotence? For hair? Doesn’t seem like an even trade.”

I suggest a fancy knit hat, maybe one with a tassel. Then I say that I like the shaved head look.

I find out Matt is going to be Mr. Furley for Halloween, if he can find a good wig. We move on to cars, and Matt reviews the classifieds for a good Honda. I remark that no one outside of Detroit ever craves or requests a Ford. We talk about my Vanagon, I feel wistful, but happy that I am still for a while. Pleased to be in DC.

Tony finishes his whisky and said “You know, I used to take pictures of people. Yeah, I did I was pretty good. I have an old Canon. I had a pretty good zoom lens. Click, click” He motions with his fingers.

I said “I love people watching, but I am giving up on the zoom lens stalking technique.”

“Why is that – sometimes you can get some great shots? I got some great shots of this French family in Belgium.”

“I just want to be upfront about it I guess. Hey, would you mind if I took a few photographs of you?”

“Me, not at all. In fact, I will tell you a story so it looks more natural” Tony talks about being in the grand square of Brussels, and snapping away at the very French, French family. He said they didn’t see him, but the waiter did. “And he got right between my lens and the couple, said something about being a yank. People always think I am a yank.”

The lighting is low, so most of his story pictures end up a bit blurry, but I get this one at the end.



I ask him if he still had his camera and he said he does, and then adds “You know, I miss taking pictures. I think I am going to get it out. See if the old thing still works, lens were all manual back then.”

I say my goodbyes and walk out to the yellowing light of the pre-fab downtown Silver Spring. Ok, so it isn’t strangers in a strange land, but it’s almost better. Normal people in normal land.