At the end of the high school year, there was always the ritual of signing other people’s yearbooks. Mostly these were pithy little notes like “it’s been awesome knowing you” and “hope you have a great life”. Here’s what I wish I had written in one particular yearbook:
Congratulations, you lumbering dolt, for escaping high school at the bottom of the class. You’ve been a dick to me for the past 12 years, so go fuck yourself. Sincerely, Fishrobber. P.S. I made your mother squeal last night.
At my high school, the photo class took a trip to San Francisco every spring. Looking back, I can’t believe they let 30 teenagers loose in the city and said “Meet the bus at the corner of Grant and Columbus at 1pm,” and everyone made it just fine. No one got into trouble, no one got run over by a Muni bus, and no one got lost in the days before cell phones and Google Maps.
Armed with a Minolta, and several rolls of black-and-white film (kids: ask your parents), we roamed from the Financial District to Chinatown to Aquatic Park looking for interesting sights and subjects. Some of the “people” photos are below. I have never been good at capturing people, but this day was pretty successful. I have misplaced the negatives, so I had to scan the prints, but they still look okay to my non-expert eye.
Alone in Chinatown
Waiting for customers
Feeding the pigeons