It’s a quintessential New Orleans’ evening. The fog is rolling in off the Mississippi River obscuring the ghosts of long-dead scoundrels and thieves in the mist. Andrew Jackson on his trusty steed rises above the murk in Jackson Square. The neon lights of Bourbon Street beckon. And I’m standing next to the streetcar tracks waiting for the next car to come by.
Things started innocently enough. I was walking through the French Quarter exploring on the first night of my first time in the city. As I make my way along, I hear a whistle and see a couple of people with cell phone cameras in hand run towards it. When I get there, I see them taking a shot of a streetcar making its way through the fog. A thought tickles my brain, “This is it! This is the image I have to capture. The perfect New Orleans photo in my first few hours in town.”
I immediately start to fiddle with my camera getting it ready. It will be a challenging shot, but I can make it work. The wind blows in off the river. It feels about fifteen degrees colder than a few streets into the Quarter. I hear a whistle. Here comes the next car. I take the shot:
Blech. I have to try again. Shutter speed is the key. In the dark mist, the shutter needs to stay open long enough to capture enough light; open it too long though, and the image begins to streak. I take some test shots with new settings. I think I have it. I wait for the next train. Whistle, shoot…nope. Still sucks.
More fiddling with the settings, more waiting. I really should have worn my sweatshirt. It was in the 70s when I left my B&B. Feels like the 50s now. No problem. I can take it. When is that next car coming? Let me check the RTA schedule on my phone. I don’t hear the whistle until too late. Damn, I missed it. I’ll just stand here and wait patiently for the next one.
And I do. And blech. And repeat. And are those people staring at me because I’ve been standing here for a half hour? Maybe I should walk around a little. No, I need to wait for the next streetcar. I will not give up until I get this right.
I’m like Captain Ahab at this point. The streetcar photo my Moby Dick: “To the last I grapple with thee.”
An indeterminate time later. This is the best shot I am able to get.
It’s kind of cool actually, but not what I wanted. Maybe I need to pack it in, bring my tripod tomorrow, hope that it’s still misty, and try again. I sigh. Café Du Monde is nearby, so I head off for coffee and a beignet. A pretty good deal for six bucks. A lifetime supply of powdered sugar in one sitting. I would have taken a picture of it, but I’m preoccupied with my streetcar failure.
I leave and decide to check out more of the area. I hear a whistle. I’m by the tracks again in a different spot. The fog isn’t so dense here, but it would still make for a good photo. No harm in giving it one last shot (pun intended!). The streetcar is coming right towards me. Its light shines a beacon in the night. Click. I open the playback menu. I don’t expect much… Looks like a good picture!
Maybe I should wait here and try again to see if I can do better? I stand there for a minute. A hear someone playing a trumpet in the distance. What the hell am I doing? I put the lens cap on my Nikon and head towards the noise.
