Friday, February 24, 2006

The Fortune Cookie

We were all sitting around the mahogany coffee table in the living room. Eight different conversations were going on at once, but no one cared. The Lakers were playing on the big screen, but in a room full of professional photographers, everyone was more concerned with setting their flash right for the group photos. The Chinese food was ordered and when it was delivered, David Jay surreptitiously handed the guy his credit card. Chopsticks were raised in his honor. You gotta admit, the guy’s a gem.

As 35 photographers talked, ate, and took more pictures than paparazzi, I sometimes sat in silence. In new environments, I like to stand against the wall and watch. I like being the fly. But somehow I knew that this wouldn’t lend itself to being an ordinary night. I found myself dancing with some of the industry’s biggest hitters, posing in their pictures, and laughing at their jokes. It was amazing.

I knew that if I accepted Mike Colon’s offer to model, good fruit would be harvested. And let me tell you, my bags are bursting at the seams! Sure, JD and I had a phenomenal time posing for a group of photographers during the afternoon shoot, but I learned the most just by listening to Mike speak. After the shoot, all 26 of us piled into his studio to talk shop and his pricing structure. The main question of the day: How can you charge $50,000 to shoot a wedding? His answers would amaze you.

Mike set up a mock client meeting…of course he asked JD and me to be the interested couple (I’ll sign your Mike Colon DVD when it comes out if you’d like) and his approach to finding the right client is outta sight. However, beyond all the business and marketing, I was moved. I felt for the first time in a while that I was actually moving in the right direction, not merely wishing myself to move. This is it, I whispered in JD’s soft right ear. I’m going to make this happen and I couldn’t be happier. He squeezed my hands tightly together and knew that if he looked at me in the eyes, I would begin to cry. So he just squeezed.

As I cleared our plates from the mahogany coffee table, chow mein dangled from the sides. Don’t forget our fortune cookies, JD said as I made my way back to the kitchen. That’s right. Nothing’s better than life predicted by destiny dressed in hardened rice paper. Well, JD asked, what’d it read?

I smiled, held the slip of paper out to him and read aloud:

Thank you, Peking Noodle Company, for reassuring my decision. And thank you, JD, for always squeezing tightly.


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