Tales from the 'Right' Seat

As I have mentioned before, I am the defacto traffic photographer. In fact my schedule was adjusted from the straight overnight it was supposed to be to it's current 2A - 11A state so that I can shoot stories with Eyewitness News This Morning's traffic god, Justin Cooper.

A few weeks ago, Coop and I went out to investigate strange drippings from the McCarran Airport Tunnel that takes you from the airport to I-215. The drips aren't anything big, but they tended to annoy motorists who just got their car washed and others who were frustrated they had to turn that little knob to activate their wipers.

As part of the story, we were going to make a couple of passes through the tunnel and try and get some video of the drip hitting the windshield of the T-TIC. (Hey, quit lauging. Traffic b-roll can get very dull! We gotta do something to spice it up!)

To achieve this I was required to become the passenger so that I can shoot. Apparently Coop didn't trust me when I said I could do both.

Being the passenger when you're always the driver is a little strange. The drive from the station wasn't long, but it was long enough to give my brain time to ponder things.

What did I want for lunch...
Does the truck always rattle this much?
Is he going to rear end that guy?
Wow, that chick is HOT!

Before I knew it, we were at the tunnel. After two passes with no drip, we went and did our interview. Quick and easy. I was thrilled. I would get to regain my rightful position in the left seat. The power seat. The seat that had control.

"Let's shoot a promo with me driving through the tunnel." Coop suggested.

"Huh-Wha?" I asked.

"Come on it'll look good." Coop stated, climbing back into the drivers side of my live truck.

I whimpered and took my position in what I will no longer refer to as the bitch seat. I'd hate to consider myself anyone's bitch... (No laughing again, please...)

On the drive back to the tunnel I pondered some more. Mostly about my impending death because I had to take off my seatbelt in order to shoot Coop.

I tried to keep in my head some manly things to yell when we crashed because I would be damned if the last sounds of my voice would be a shrill 'eeek' that could shatter glass.

At any rate, I obviously survived. Or did I? Maybe this is purgatory... Now I cherish my spot in the driver’s seat and enjoy it as much as I can. Even though, I might surrender to the driving urges of ol' traffic man again. Having a few extra moments to ponder could come in handy!

UPDATE! I just realized that this truck is 21 and not 22, the T-TIC! Well 22 is the origional one as the T-TIC is more of a state of mind then it is a truck. It's zen man. I'm like a ninja with a fifty foot antenna and a 7 GHz microwave...