It is always easy to share positive events in life. The celebration over good stuff is often times the best part. The difficult and embarrassing stuff that makes you want to crawl into a hole to hide away for a few years, not so much. Hey, that is the big issue with trusting written history, right? I mean, who really wants to document getting destroyed by another country, wetting their pants, or getting fired? Why relive it? Why share?
After this past weekend, I was questioning whether or not to document my rough experience via blog. As is, I'm already doomed to six weeks worth of bad jokes from my husband, as well as be labeled an idiot by a good amount of engineers and their students, so why should I propagate the embarrassment. In the end, I decided to share my woeful tale because the tough lessons are always the best; especially when you remember to follow them.
I FORGOT THE CAMERA. I forgot that stupid, bloody, most important part of making a damn documentary, camera. Please release all laughter now.
I've been filming on and off for roughly six months and have had that camera within arm’s length every time I've checked it out of the lab. When I traveled from southern Ohio to St. Paul, Minnesota, I had the camera on the chair next to me while I ate, I even stuffed it under our bed so if some bastard criminal broke in looking for my HD camera, I would be able to wake up and take them down before the camera was stolen. I treated that camera with the same care and attention all parents should give their children which is why I am still having a hard time understanding why I neglected my baby.
The lawnmower competition took place this weekend in Fairborn, Ohio, a little over an hour from where we live. Compared to the trek we made in January to Minnesota, this seemed like a breeze. (Warning sign #1) One issue I had in St. Paul was lack of storage space for the footage. Shooting over three days took up a lot of room, and I actually had to begin editing on the road. I even attempted to edit while filming which was the cause for me missing some unique moments that you just can't expect to happen. This time, I was very stingy with the shots I was taking. I've also noticed that I have been filming a lot of the same shots. How many times does an audience need to see students silently working on their laptop in the grass? Not as much as I have filmed, that's for sure.
Friday morning and afternoon was spent prepping the robot for the approval run that would officially get them into the competition. For filming purposes, there was a lot of the same activities I had already captured and not a lot to do once I got shots of the fields, competition site, and the team’s qualification. Basically, if I did not have a camera on this day, all would have been dandy. Once I got everything I could while saving room on the cards for the next day of competition, I left in the early evening to head home and have a much needed date with my thesis.
Saturday was the big day, D day of sorts. Saturday was the day I would rely on when I felt I missed something at the snowplow competition. I've even said on a few occasions, "not much room for this shot, but at least the main focus will be on the lawnmower competition." We loaded up the car, picked up the student we were driving, and made multiple attempts to get breakfast on the road. Even after leaving around 8am we got to the fields at around 9:45am, 45 min. after we were suppose to arrive. I jumped out of the car, a bit flustered that I had already missed about an hour’s worth of competition, only to discover the trunk of our car was neglecting a camera. THE camera.
It was unbelievable. It was horrific. It was a fact that was unavoidable.
I was speechless when I got back into the car and started the engine, leaving the students and robots behind me. Over the course of my two hour journey driving home and back again, I am very sure I experienced all seven stages of grief. Denial was probably the shortest lived. I think denial hit when I first opened the trunk of my car.I don't even think I understood what was going on until my husband asked, "where's your camera?" Pain and guilt hit hard. I cried my eyes out like a little baby, whimpering to myself as I got on the highway. 'How could this have happened?' What a selfish little snob I had become!' (The last time I looked that pathetic was when I found out I had torn my second ACL, forcing me out of the US National championships for Ultimate. It was so bad, the doctor asked if I needed a sports psychologist.) Anger was probably an experience worth documenting alone. It was seriously over the top. I punched the steering wheel, I cursed at every red light that forced me to come to a halt. I blamed the distractions of the morning! 'Why couldn't people get their own breakfast?!' 'Why didn't I have a crew?!' 'How was I supposed to do everything all by myself!!!!' 'WHY DO YOU HATE ME WORLD!!!!' Once I got home and had my camera again, I started my reflection phase. I suddenly remembered hearing the day before that the team was scheduled to go at 12:30pm and if I made good time, I could get there by 12:15pm! There was still hope. I might just be bale to successfully document the final competition. All was not lost. And as I ran onto the field at 12:18pm, camera in hand, I saw the team quietly sitting in garden chairs. Their run was long over.
I could feel the depression setting in; my self hatred was at an overload. This was the end. But before I could run off, screaming and crying, the team informed me that while they had made a run, they were scheduled for a second round to try and get more points overall.
In the end, the majority of the teams did not do well on their first runs, which extended overall length of the competition and allowed me to film enough to get me by. Also, while I was gone, my incredible husband managed to find a camera to document the first run for me. All was not lost!
In conclusion, there is no such thing is being overly attentive to details. Never assume. Always prepare as if you're going to film in Minnesota. Make a freaking check-list. And treat these trying situations as important life lessons that you will never forget.
When I got home after a seriously long day, I decided to leave all my stress of the day back in Fairborn. And when I opened up the trunk of my car to take out the camera, I realized I FORGOT THE TRIPOD.
~The End
For anyone who has made it to the end of this post, CONGRATS! Here is a little something for you... the promo video for the snowplow competition! Hope you enjoy.
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