About two weeks after I bought my first and only M6, which I had been dreaming about for quite some time, I was shooting pictures on a large bridge near downtown Nashville, Tennessee. I was in the "zone," feeling very Cartier-Bresson-ish, and a family of three stopped me on the bridge. In a British accent, the gentleman asked "Is that a Leica?" I was so overwhelmed by being "recognized" (I guess, as a Leica photographer) that I proceeded to tell him a bit about the Leica and lens, it's history, and famous photographers and subjects associated with the famed Leica brand. He seemed positively delighted, and I felt very self-satisfied...I was bursting with pride. Then, right in front of him and his family, I (with purposeful casualness) opened the bottom of the camera and proceeded to begin changing film rolls. When the roll didn't slide out, I tapped the top of the camera (sometimes the rolls are in there pretty tightly), still talking to the man and pretending this was the common occurrence of a real Leica professional. The dang roll wouldn't come out, so I finally had to glance down and turn my attention to this troublesome roll of film, when I saw the raw film wound around the take-up spool, and of course it was totally exposed to the light of day. I felt a cold chill, and replaced the bottom plate. I looked up and the English gentleman gave me a wry smile, and I forced my own smile, excused myself, and walked away. That was the only time I've ever felt like throwing a camera off of a bridge. After momentary hesitation, I thought I should follow said camera off the bridge.
I've become a much more modest photographer, and nobody asks about my Fujis 😀
