I take a good look around the newsroom, and put a whole bunch of pieces together. Call me a news-geek...I don't care. My desk is about 2 feet away from the great Christiane Amanpour's. I see her walking in and out everyday, and I try to get a good look without starring. I love her because of the kind of work she gets to do. She is a journalist!
Later in the day I head over to Wimbledon; just me and the camera guy, Scotty. Our car arrives and I wait and wait for him, then I go searching and find him on the internet in the crew room. "Oh...yeah...I'm coming," and he takes his time to get the equipment. I immediately sense that this guy is going to give me a hard time.
In the car he begins to ask me questions here and there. He's quite comical and my small chuckles encourage his banter. When he discovers who I am, he calls his supervisor and says "Nikki, you didn't tell me this girl is from the mother ship! She's the real-deal, I thought you sent me out with a blasted intern. ...no, no, she's chipper...I was playin' dumb. But, now that I know,... it's all good."
So, my instinct was right! He was acting funny. I was put off by that, but then grew to like him.
Scotty is one of CNN's most famous camera persons. He's sought after by the high level who's-who's of the company, and has an incredible headline making tale. Scotty is the one who's crew was attacked and surrounded by Iraqis. It was every man for himself, and his camera was destroyed. On another occasion his convoy was attacked in Baghdad and he was shot in the head. From all of that he is still with us. He is famous in his own right because of these survival stories; and all for the sake of journalism. For that CNN loves him.
We get to Wimbledon and play the waiting game, as the WTA representative, Raquel, told me she'd bring out Maria Sharapova in an hour. An older gentleman on the grounds recognizes Scotty and greets him. They talk and then he asks ..."so who's your reporter?"
Scotty points and says "There she is."
The gentleman pauses and then directs his comments toward me "...Oh, not that you don't look like a reporter...well, you don't look like OUR reporters" he says freely.
I reply "Yes, I know."
I went off to the restroom to put on my makeup and to rehearse my standup. I'm still feeling confident...they haven't taken that from me; but now I feel I must be perfect. I really have something to prove to these pretentious Britts.
I return to Scotty and suggest that we should do my standup now while we are waiting. He says "You know what you are going to say?"
"Yes." I reply.
I knock it out like a pro, and then we wait some more. I thanked him and told him he should start rolling as soon as our girl is walking toward us. We need to get everything because I don't know what form she'll be in. (I heard Sharapova, in particular, doesn't like coming to the street to do interviews after the press conferences.)
But, she was gracious enough to meet us, and I was given two minutes.
Here ya go!:
Watch the Video
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Oh! the day is gone, and I realize I probably missed some cool BBQ's back home. So, in the newsroom while I was waiting for my interview to feed back to Atlanta, I shout "Happy Fourth of July!"
Post a Comment