An Edinburgh Tale
It was 11:30ish PM. The night was cold and overcast, but dry.
The Farmboy and his assistant had finished a late evening meal of fish and chips about 45 minutes earlier and now found themselves in the city center- photography equipment in hand.
They were working their way down High Street- the Farmboy shooting the city's architecture and pub crawlers. He had recently acquired a new wide angle lens and was excited to see what he could capture with it.
Halfway into the pedestrian zone of the street, the farmboy set up his tripod for a full street shot. As he lined up his shot and depressed the shutter release button he answered the inquisitive, yet slightly inebriated, questions of a young, passing Scot.
It was just a moment after the shutter fired and the young man turned to walk away, that the Farmboy caught the red glint of the phone box out of the corner of his eye.
Ahh, another subject.
He picked up his camera and tripod and moved them to the left- just out front of the telephone box.
The assistant was a little way behind him, unable to move as quickly as he due to her teeth violently chattering, despite the many layers of wool she wore.
As the assistant came up behind the Farmboy, he depressed the shutter release button once again and that's when she heard the growl of a large engine.
They both turned to look at the same time.
A garbage truck.
The assistant moved faster than she thought was possible with frozen appendages and urged the Farmboy to do the same.
"No worries!" he laughed at her, "We're in the pedestrian zone. He can't come in here."
And then the pedestrian zone pylons began to descend into the pavement of the road.
The garbage truck rolled into the protective area and quickly began picking up speed.
The assistant, arms frantically flailing about, urged the Farmboy to forget about the shot and join her on the sidewalk.
She had seen the flames burning within the driver's eyes.
The driver, rage twisting his features, ignored the 20 feet of road off to his right and made straight for the Farmboy.
The Farmboy held his ground.
Blowing his jacket and scarf out with the rush of its wind, the garbage truck barreled past him-
with only a foot to spare.
As both pairs of eyes followed after the truck, the assistant exclaimed,
"That's one angry trashman!"
The Farmboy smiled. He had gotten his shot.
However, his assistant needed a new pair of underpants.