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The Other Side of the Camera

A wedding photographer by trade, I was recently subjected to "the Other Side" of the camera lens The proverbial cake table turned on me as I planned my own wedding at thirty-nine years old. Even photographing other peoples' weddings, I often feel akin to being strapped to the latest high tech thrill ride, the action non-stop, myself just hanging on for dear life hoping to capture perfectly the day's every magical moment-some painstakingly choreographed, others catching me and everyone else completely by surprise. An uninvited lakefront gale absconding the bride's veil. Little nephew Christopher dipping into the cake before the bride and groom have even arrived at the hall. Tequila-crazed Uncle Ronnie getting a little too friendly with the ladies on the dance floor. I could only imagine what my own one-way roller coaster ride on the Wild Wedding Express would reveal. Only suspected how excruciating it would feel to be bereft of my beloved Nikon. Or my Canon Rebel. Or my handy little Sony which I still planned on smuggling into the festivities despite the explicit prohibitions of my lovely fianc, Cara. She often joked she had no intentions of competing with "Mrs. Nikon." On further reflection, I don't think she was joking. )

No doubt I would feel almost naked. Even worse. Naked without a camera. But fortunately I had a plan. (Aside from no kids at the reception.)
"This will be the candid photo opportunity of a lifetime," I secretly schemed. Just imagine the endless possibilities. A wedding shot from the groom's perspective. This was the stuff that could garner some primo cutting edge gallery buzz, a national award, perhaps even international recognition. What a boon for business! What a concept! Talk about a front row seat to the Wedding of the Century. Or at least the only wedding in which I'll be displayed in the hot-seated spotlight. Hopefully. I only had to keep my precocious little covert operation secret from my future bride. Or there may not even be a wedding. Of course, we still had to hire a professional. Just as a cover. Luckily, Cara's Uncle Keith knew a guy who worked for cheap. Plus, her daddy was paying for it, so it was no sweat off my cumber bun.
Needless to say, despite the best laid plans of groomzillas and brides, when our big day finally arrived things began to unravel right from the get-go. Not surprisingly, an endless gauntlet of distractions

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