Yay, Fireworks!

You’re sitting there this Saturday and thinking, “Oh but Michael, you’re such a photography goober now. Why aren’t there any fireworks shots?” Okay, maybe you’re not thinking that, but you should. It’s a good question. Afterall, I did haul myself out to the top of Russian Hill in the frigid San Francisco summer to see the explosions. Of course, after I took a couple of shots, I realized what I figured would be the case in that you need to keep the shutter open for a very long time to capture stuff when it’s that dark and there’s no way I can hold the camera still enough for long enough. So, no tripod equaled crap shots. There might be one or two in there that were good, but it doesn’t look like it.
On another note, I’ve realized that at no point in my existence have I ever been drunk enough to truly appreciate fireworks. You’ve really seen all there is in fireworks if you’ve seen one good display. Even though they tossed in some exploding cat whiskers last Tuesday, fireworks is fireworks. We look up, go “Aaaah…” and that’s about it. So, I think the lesson to be learned in all of this is that I need to drink more.