Blipping the Blipper

I was out for an early evening blip trying out a new lens in Palmer Alaska when I encountered a Japanese brand SUV driving erratically. He was weaving and darting among rural roads and swerving at the last minute to drive down barely used farm roads. My thumb was poised on my cell phone's 911 speed dial button as I was worried that this individual was chemically impaired. He suddenly slammed on his brakes kicking up dirt and gravel surrounding said SUV in a cloud of dust. He jumped out of the car brandishing what looked like a powerful black semi-automatic weapon. I was stunned. I dropped my cell phone between the seats. I bent down to recover it and once I regained sight of the deranged individual, I realized the presumed weapon was actually a camera.

There are plenty of professional and amateur photographers in the Matanuska-Susitna Valley, but this desperate behavior could only be that of a blipper running out of time. I approached the individual nonchalantly feigning concern that he might need roadside assistance. He surprisingly politely declined needing any help and went about his business essentially ignoring my presence thereafter. When he was fully engrossed in his blipping activity, I squeezed off a blip of him. I left him on his own and went on my way satisfied that he posed no danger to the community at large.

On my way home I started thinking about the blipping stranger. His erratic maneuvers were most notable around barns. His fastidiousness in setting up a landscape exposure was quite unique. Given the relative paucity of subarctic blippers, the interest in barns, and the level of passion for landscapes, I had to conclude that the stranger behind the lens was infamous Chaos. I realized then, that there was no reason for me to look for any more subjects to blip today. Besides, what I was going to put up was likely to be censored anyway. I later met up with my friend Bruce Wayne who turned out to be late for beers and dinner and told him of my brush with fame.