Friday evening. 7.30. Getting ready to go to see “Watchmen”.
Like many people, I check my mobile phone periodically to see if I’ve missed any calls. At 7.32 I saw that I’d missed two from a friend who I knew was in Spain on holiday. Weird. Surely something serious has happened if he’s ringing me while he’s on holiday, so I called him back.
Me: Hi mate. What’s up?
Him: Aaah, Jenkins. I have a favour to ask.
Me: Sure. [Expecting to hear of a leak or a break-in at his house.]
Him: It’s a big favour, and “No” is a perfectly fine answer.
Me: Well, you tell me what it is and I’ll see what I can do.
Him: You know I’m over in Spain for Pete’s wedding?
Me: Yes.
Him: What are you doing this weekend?
Me: Off to see “Watchmen” in a minute, but nothing after that.
Him: The photographer that we’ve hired has broken his leg. He ‘phoned about two hours ago to tell us, and we haven’t got anyone to replace him.
Me: Eeek!
Him: Pete’s stressing over it, and Edna is in tears. Any chance you could come out and do it?
Me: Eeek! I thought you were going to ask me to pop around to the house to sort out a leak or something.
Him: Unfortunately, no. And the wedding is at 12pm tomorrow.
Me: OK. Let me find out what flight options are and I’ll call you back.
After about ten minutes on Expedia, EasyJet, and so on I had prices & times for the flights, so I called back to break the news of the expense. Flights came in at £420, and I’d need a lift, at 10am Saturday, from Malaga to Alameda, then a return lift to get me back to Malaga for 8.30am on Sunday.
A few minutes after the call ended I headed off to see the film. It’s quite a long film at nearly three hours long, so I figured my camera & speedlight batteries would be charged by the time I got back. In six hours I’d be heading to Bristol airport to get a 6.50am flight to Malaga for a 12pm wedding.
To make it through immigration in time I knew I’d have to pack light. That meant camera rucksack (with a few lenses, a couple of bodies, some speedlights, cards, batteries, etc) and another rucksack with a change of clothes. It’s surprising how little you need for an over-nighter, specially if you set off suited & booted, but I had no idea what sort of weather to expect. Metcheck suggested temperatures of about 17 celcius, which is not particularly warm but, as I’d be working, I should be OK.
Bristol Airport is surprisingly busy at 4.30am on a Saturday. People heading to Spain for golfing breaks, France/Italy for skiing, and so on. I was the only person there in a suit, carrying little more than a change of clothes and a bag of camera gear. Still, it made check-in and immigration easy, though I did have everything removed from my camera bag, swabbed and then x-rayed a second time.
Arriving in Malaga bang on time I was whisked away to Alameda, about 45 minutes from the airport. The weather was good. Superb, in fact. The skies were clear, deep blue, and the 10am temperature about 22 celcius, and it was getting warmer. There’s nothing better than wearing a dark suit in hot weather. Brilliant.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people looking so relieved to see me as I did during the course of the day. Everyone from the groom to the officials of Alameda’s regional council spoke, in Brazlian Portuguese or Spanish, with great enthusiasm about my arrival. I was just a guy doing a friend a favour, nothing more.
Less than 48 hours after making the call, I was back in the UK. Seven hours’ non-continuous sleep in fifty five hours has left me tired and aching, but excited nonetheless, with five gigabytes of images to process.