Here I am, the first day in the Big Apple.
Why New York City even called that?
My perception of the “Big Apple” was pretty much that of any other the stereotype of another.
“That’s where you go to take a bite out of life,” says Sayde.
And thats exactly what it felt like my first day there!
Fresh on my feet with my camera in hand, aimlessly wandering the streets of Queens, taking pictures, smiling. Feelin’ it out.
I come across this amusing mural, painted beneath a window that had ET chillin’ it. The wall had little cartoon devils with the most adorable little sinful butts. Then I notice the subtle green letters at the bottom, ” DIRTY IRISH ” and get on the ground to angle a pic of the letters and the devil booty.
A man in a hot sauce polo walks out of the restaurant and stops and asks me if I am a professional photographer.
What even defines a professional, anyway?
Business cards. Money. Websites. Wearing bras?
All of which lack a presence in my life, especially at that moment of inquiry.
“I am kind of a professional,” I respond with slight hesitation, “Why do you ask? I am a student. “
Turns out, Homeboy Hot Sauce was looking for help marketing this “Spyce” hot sauce company and wanted me to take some nice looking photos.
Just so happens, I can take some nice photos. Just a few hours previously, I responded to a few photo-gig add on the list de Craig for a few extra bucks.
Insert cash sign eye emoji here.
What do you know, this guy just approaches me with this cool random opportunity.
“This really is where people come to make dreams happen!”
He gave me his business card, a brochure, a bottle of habanero hot sauce to start with and a lot of enthusiasm.
He gives me a pretty vague description of what he was looking for, and my imagination fills in the rest. It sounded like fun direction. A creative project.
We agreed to meet up after he got off work to see if he liked where I was going with the pictures and to discuss photographing the other hot sauce flavors and so on.
I started right then and there.
Your tastebuds are calling.
Crushing the competition.
“Hot as balls”
Sugar + Spyce
Makes everything nice!
I spy-ce with my little eye…
Spyce up your life in the bedroom.
Tastes like freedom.
Spyce totally ROCKS.
Hot sauce man and I were in good communication, for once. He wants to look at the pictures over some drinks.
We meet up and look at some of the pictures. He seems to like them, but apparently has to run it by his boss before he pays me…
We had negotiated $50 for the whole batch, which took me about three hours from the time I started shooting to when we met back up.
The batch includes AT LEAST 10 solid, usable pics. That is fair, for both parties.
We agree to meet up again tomorrow around noon. He will give me the money and I will give him the link to the google Drive with all of the photos.
Now that we have taken care of business, there is half a beer left…
“So do you have a boyfriend? Are you seeing anyone? What is up with you?”
Guess I should have seen this coming.
I explain the boyfriend situation. None of your business.
Just when I am actually trying to be professional!
Blah blah blah blah blah.
My step dad is calling to pick me up.
We say farewell.
“See you tomorrow,” I say.
“Oh yeah, yeah see you tomorrow! And we can get drinks again after work,” he says.
To which stupid me says, “Oh yeah probably not gonna happen, I have plans tomorrow night but I will be in touch with you about the pics in the morning.”
Why didn’t I just milk him along?!
Bet you can see where this is going.
So yeah, Hotsauce Homeboy the cash/ picture exchange never happened, despite my many attempts to meet up in the following days of my visit.
I optimistically still carried around the hot sauce bottle incase I saw any other awesome photo opps.
I knew he was starting to dodge me and I just tried to bug him.
It didn’t work, naturally he blew me off and I was just bent about it.
Stupid of me believe that his intentions were true, or think anything would fall into my lap so easily? I was a broke ass girl in trying her best to exist in a very expensive city and I could have really used that $50 dollars. I was also mad he pulled one over on me like that and I wasted time on him for nothing in return.
I was mad.
This is what happens:
Entering the dark side.
Not even the pigeons like this Shyte.
Right where it belongs.
Just the sight of Spyce makes people drop their appetites.
I hear the sewers are streamlining this Spyce stuff now.
The sewage can’t get enough of it.
This hot sauce blows.
<Fart noise trumpet>
Caution: Spyce is $%^&#
Almost sounds like a dirty rotten curse word.
“Who puts the Y in Spice anyways?”
Not even if it was the last condiment on earth..
And that’s when it happened.
This was the last picture I took of the hot sauce in whole form…
We roll up to a farmer’s market. There is organic a condiment stand. What do you know, they have their brand of habanero hot sauce.
I am inspired by the free sample sticks.
They must have seen my wicked intentions. I used the sticks to make a greater than symbol.
” > “
Random Hot Sauce > SPYCE ( in picture form)
I pull out the Spyce bottle from my bag and set it on the table. It took me a short second to realize that there was an actual hole in the Spyce bottle; it had oozed a hot saucy trail out of my camera bag onto the table which I just set it on.
I was confused but the people who owned the stand were something else…
Hot sauce. All over their table and it didn’t even come from their products.
What the actual FECK?!
Dude I know, I went to reach for my camera because how unbelievable it was and at that moment the women threw wet wipes at me. I tried to explain, but nothing was penetrating her rage. The ridiculousness was just too unreal to even explain at that moment. It happened so fast!
I cleaned it up and got the right on out.
Spyce Lagoon of Karma
I am not even really completely sure how the bottle even broke but in that instant I knew that it was total Karma for my petty revenge scheme.
Spyce Fights Back
My phone among other things was submerged into said the “Lagoon”.
It was all up in my phone and camera bag and it was actually really nasty.
NO IDEA HOW THE BOTTLE BROKE.
That’s the craziest part of this whole tirade.
Like the true petty bitch that I was, I had to have the last word.
I heard it hurts the worst on the way out.
I get it now, that I got what I deserved with the whole bottle mysteriously breaking before I went ahead and continued slandering this hot sauce for my own amusement. Hell bent on the principle, sometimes I lose sight and clearly get a little carried away.
In the end of the day all publicity is good publicity, especially in the case of this shady hot sauce. It goes to show that two wrongs do NOT make a right; me seeking revenge and having mischievous intentions came back to bite me.