The DNC is in Denver...

5:45am, Saturday August 23rd. Throwing on a pair of jeans that I had worn the previous two days and a T-shirt that has seen better days I skip the Wheaties and head straight for a Starbucks breakfast. Picking up a chocholate biscotti and a double shot I point my Volvo towards Denver. The ride was nice, not many cars out that early so I was relaxed and in no hurry.

Pulling onto 20th I find a parking spot a block from Coors Field. There was a pre-autumn chill in the air. It felt as if I was heading to classes at the beginning of a school year, but I wasn't. I grabbed my satchel with my cameras hidden inside and start walking. I didn't have a plan. Just walked through the ghost town of a city with most everyone still warm and in bed. *Click* I broke the ice with shooting a wide photo straight down a city street while standing in the middle of an intersection. Walking and clicking. Placing the camera close to the ground, holding it above my head, holding it crooked close to a brick wall. I had 4 rolls of film I had to get through.

Since I wasn't too familiar with downtown Denver I slowly headed towards 16th Street, I've been there a few times and I didn't paticularly want to get lost. I get insanely frustrated when I get lost. Anyways, walking up 16th St. I encountered some homeless people selling old newspapers. I don't carry cash so I passed by with a hello and clicked off a hip shot of them. Working my way up towards the capital building I stopped in the World Trade Center courtyard. *Click* *Click*

"Whatcha taken pictures of?" I turn around to find two men in black suits. "Lines." I answer turning back towards the buildings and shooting off another photo. "Looks like your taking photos of these Banks. You have time for a few questions?" I didn't want to buy anything from these guys or take some survey or register to vote or whatever it was they wanted to ask me about, for some reason I said, "Sure."

While asking me what kind of camera I am using and if I develop my own film the older gent pulled out an FBI badge. "Damn, should of shaved my beard off this morning." I thought to myself while smiling and answering. "Its a vintage camera from Germany and I don't develop my own film yet." I felt like I was part of story line in a movie. They stood uncomfortably close to me. I didn't like that.

Questions kept pouring and I kept answering. One of them asked for my I.D. and stepped to the side to run my information while his partner conversed with me about photos, groups and work. He asked about what type of film my camera used and where I get it developed. He told me that a lot of people are part of groups and that it's okay if I am part of a group. "Nope, not part of a group." I told him. "I work at DPA Microphones." I said in a relaxed kind of way. "Microphones..." He went on to tell me he has his own recording studio and collects vintage tube microphones. In a couple of minutes we became friends in a "I'm sure I'll never see you again sort of way."

So, I got my license back and was sent off with an explained apology giving me a heads up about all the security that is being implimented over the course of the weekend and upcoming week because of the Democratic National Convention. Whoops.

Ha. A dude with a beard and a black hat, a ratty t-shirt and jeans that are too tight for him, taking pictures of the WTC in Denver was interogated by the FBI. I feel a little cooler.