Ah, but speaking about photographic opportunities, Dork introduced me to the Ford Rouge plant this past morning.

I'd just finished up a long (and exceedingly cool) conversation with Jim, ending at 2:10am on a note of what stuff would be happening on Monday. It was nice to know I hadn't come across as a fool to her, since our two previous morning plans had fallen through due to odd circumstances.

Dork wanted to take me to an industrial cancer like Zog Island, but his boyfriend Weavie's car isn't so reliable. It's one of those Fords that rattles and has the back doors bungie corded to keep them from opening. He instead decided to go for the Rouge plant, which is apparently Ford's hot-shit production location.

It was 2:30. It was freezing. Not a fucker walked through the streets, and barely a bastard bothered with the expressway. Los Angeles might have been secretly jealous.

After a not so long time, we sped by your usual industrial montages along the plant. I wasn't surprised at seeing the long rows of 'no parking' symbols. The LA harbor was just as persnickety about that crap.

Eventually, Dork parked by a bridge that hopped over this river, which inletted right up to the plant. I scouted for a no parking sign. Couldn't find one at first, but then I spied this sun-bleached bastard right below another sign. Dork said it wouldn't be a problem for him to park. I asked him if he was really sure about it. He giggled in that infectious way and waved me off.

The cold snapped across me as I got out. I had on two shirts, a sweater, and trousers. No gloves. My hands numbed completely in the first 8 minutes, but I didn't care. I saw this gorgeous shot and set up shop. I furiously rubbed my hands until I figured that I could stuff them back inside my sweater--for a little while, at least.

That first shot was phenomenal. I literally gaped and started to talk to myself. I couldn't believe I'd caught something like that. You'll see the final version, "Industrial Harbor".

I looked back over my shoulder and noticed that Dork had flipped his hazards on. It took a minute to click, then I realized that that was a brilliant idea. A cop car passing by didn't pay him any mind whatsoever.

After that I ran across the street and took some more shots, occasionally waving to some very confused looking people in cars. The "what in the fuck?" face gets me smiling every time.

I headed back over to Dork's car and mentioned that I'd walk a block, go the way we came, and take some of the shots I'd composed in my head. He was cool with waiting. The cold was getting more bitter. My metal tripod felt like a dull paper cut in my hand. Again I remember the hand-in-the-sweater deal and upgraded to full-nut-retraction cold mode.

I squeezed off a few more here and there before the obligatory security guard showed up. These guys don't change much across the country. This one was large and portly, with a decent demeanor about him. He told me that I had to keep on public property, and that they technically couldn't do anything to me. I told him that I'd been dropped off by a friend and was expecting him in half an hour--just in case Dork and I had to split our stories where the authorities were concerned. I thanked him for the warning and trundled off.

Not 10 minutes later, though, an old beat-up Ford slowly crawled toward me. It didn't have any lights going, so I thought it was just a guy--just a guy that was going slow enough, passed, then backed up to saddle right next to me. My first thought was: 'Am I about to get robbed or raped?"

This turned out to be an older security guy, though, with no pretentions about being non-threatening. He told me point-blank that this was a private facility and I was absolutely not allowed to take photos here. I told him I didn't know and mentioned the whole, y'know, being on public property while shooting the photos. He emphasized his point again while the 1st security guard stepped up from his truck. I didn't want to argue my civil rights on an ass-cold night with two Ford employees packing heat, so I gave my absolute cooperation. I gave them my info, my name, everything--everything except my digital shots. They'd mentioned I'd need to make a copy of the film, but they must have thought I had a manual camera. They dropped the whole copy deal when I mentioned I shot with a digital. One last warning later, I walked off down the street toward Dork's car.

I'd hoped that the security guys hadn't paid any attention to Dork's car and the hazard lights, but sure enough there they were at the stop light, motionless, waiting for something. I was wondering if they were waiting to descend on Dork and I if I went for Dork's car, since he was illegally parked (although, since the engine was on, he was technically stopped...hmm). I decided to play it cool and walked by his car. He lightly honked at me. I guessed that I was being too paranoid and climbed in.

Dork and I giggled our asses off as we passed into the night. He mentioned that the security guys had given him the same spiel. The older guy had also asked if I was doing the photography for a school project. His apt reply was, "Well it isn't my school project..."; nice way of dodging the question, I thought. It was great that the guards thought I was just a dumb photography kid, but the idea was patently absurd. I figured that they'd run my information with Chrsyler and GM to see if I was an industrial spy. It'd likely just drop off after that.

We went back home, I climbed into bed at around dawn and did my usual.

----

The days have generally been laid back, with me yakking on the computer or looking at photographs on DeviantArt. We're still trying to get transporation nailed down. The time that we're supposed to get Dork's Mom's truck keeps getting pushed back, for this arbitrary reason or that. It pisses me off some now and then, but mostly because we've been trying to do stuff with Jim.

Speaking of which, we still have plans to see her tonight. She doesn't have work on tuesday, so monday night/morning seemed like a logical choice. She's about 45 minutes away, so I'm guessing she'll head out here and either we'll hit a jazz club or, more likely, hang and talk. I'm fine with either, just so long as plans don't fall through. I had making commitments to people and then having them die because circumstances change.

Overall it's been a damned good vacation so far. Dork has been a wonderful host and a cool friend, as usual. I'm enjoying a screwdriver at the moment and expecting to nosh on some Arabic food later.

And perhaps there'll be more photography tonight/next morning. That'd be great. Detroit is rife with opportunity, and I'm digging the place...

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