She stands in the front of the church; her face carefully set into a pleasant expression, her breathing slow. The knuckles of her right hand, however, are white with rage as she clutches her camera.
She knows that in a matter of moments, the doors to the sanctuary will be flung open and the first notes of the processional will fill the air. Guests will rise and, as if in unison, arms holding camera phones will extend into the aisle. Those not sitting on the coveted aisle seat will raise their phone or tablet into the air. Not just family and friends, but co-workers and “plus-ones” — people with no vested interest in the bride cramming to get a photograph. Yes, she knows that in a few seconds, the church will be filled with Camera Phone paparazzi, rending her official task impossible.
She grips the camera tighter and continues to breathe deep breaths.
And then…she sees it.
A selfie stick.
She isn’t sure to whom it belongs, but it doesn’t matter. It is there, extended midway into the aisle. A Sword of Narcissism extending from the hands of a disrespectful guest.
And something deep within her snaps.
She gently places her camera on the floor behind her and begins walking down the aisle. She finds she no longer has control over her legs; they refuse to stop. She thinks, for a moment, if this is how it feels to be possessed. An almost out of body experience.
She watches with fascination as a hand she recognizes as her own reaches out and yanks the selfie stick from its surprised owner. She grasps it with both hands and holds it high above her head, much the same way one would when presenting an item of tribute.
And then, in one swift move, she raises her knee and brings the selfie stick down, breaking it in two.
With a deep sigh of satisfaction, she hands both pieces back to the startled owner and makes her way triumphantly to her position at the front of the church.
She will never photograph another wedding after this. Rumors of her instability will spread far and wide. But within the wedding photography community, tales of her heroic deed will be whispered with reverence, songs will be created in her honor, and her name submitted to the Vatican for Sainthood.
About the author: Missy Mwac is a photography satirist, a lover of bacon, a drinker of vodka, a lover of sparkle, and a guide through the murky waters of professional photography. You can connect with her on Tumblr and Facebook. This article originally appeared here.
Image credits: Header illustration made with photo by Italo Greco