CW: Sexual harassment and profanity
We shot all afternoon, sweating under the August sun. Now we are waiting for the blue hour – when the sun has slipped below the horizon but its light remains in the sky, turning it a deep royal blue. We have placed fountain-like fireworks in front of a corrugated steel wall and the headlights of my old white Accord illuminate the central space. The light is nearly perfect now as I test the exposure with my camera. Then I see a movement to my left.
“Uh, Kelly? There is a guy over there with his pants down.” “Oh no...” “We should probably get out of here, right?” “I guess. We almost had the shot though!”
The man is across the parking lot, about a block away. Kelly pauses at the passenger door and says to me:
“I have pepper spray, let me get it in my hand and you get in the driver's seat. Put the key in the ignition and if he comes toward us get ready to lock the doors and start the car.”
She teeters around the front of the car, an overgrown, unsteady princess in her thrifted outfit of hot-pink heels and fluffy, baby-pink dress. Then she leans forward. Her chest lifts and her knees bend as her arms flex, turning her hands into claws. She has transformed into an Amazon Warrior, ready to face her foe.
HEY! F**K YOU! GET OUT OF HERE YOU MOTHER-F**KER!
She bellows across the lot, with a volume that only comes with four years of classical voice training.
The man, no, he is worthy of that title, he is The Flasher, does not do what we had feared by approaching us. He quickly pulls up his pants from around his ankles and sprints off into the night.
And that friends, is how you deal with a flasher sustainably!