Took almost 1200 photos today during a rugby game.
Got the kid a burrito on the way home.
Then G dragged me to the drink up where we sand songs about why Jesus Can’t Play Rugby and how I Used To Work In Chicago In A Department Store and Yogi Bear.
Afterwards, I came home excited to review my photos. I pulled out my two compact flash cards from my camera. I put them in the readers. And the first one said, “No photos found.”
I put in the second one – hoping it was the one with the most photos on it. It was not. It was the one with about 120 photos on it.
I put the card with “no photos found” back in my camera. Ok, I thought, maybe the card reader is fucked. I turned on the camera, hit play to review the photos, and saw “no photos found.”
I downloaded some card recovery software hoping it would find the photos. The first one found 600+ photos. Awesome, I thought, then it wanted $90 to recover them. I downloaded another “free” took only to have it find 800 photos and want $60 to recover it. Apparently, free means it is free for them to find the files to be recovered. It is not free to actually do the recovery.
*head desk* <repeat>
I went through the photos I had and was happy I had the team photos and such. But was pissed that I didn’t have the great shots I had reviewed and celebrated while on the pitch. The girlfriend of the other straight guy on the team had played, and there were some great shots of her manhandling the guys. (She got “man of the match” because of her great play. Yeah, don’t fuck with her.) But those are gone. Sigh.
A couple of guys offered to take a collection to buy me a new card. I appreciated the sentiment. But honestly, I get two new cards (larger than what I have today) for $75. It isn’t a great investment.
What I hate is that the photos are gone.
It’s ironic because a friend a few weeks ago asked if I, by chance, did wedding photos. I told her I have done them informally before – but honestly wasn’t confident enough in my skills to feel I could do them justice. Besides, I added, the last thing I wanted to do was fuck them or lose them.
My fear manifested in rugby photos.
The positive part is that they are only rugby photos. The positive part is that it is only a card – not my expensive lens or the camera body itself.
Still – to be giddy about the photos I took only to have them go “poof”….just fucking sucks ass.
Yeah, that’s a technical diagnosis by the way.
So excuse me as I sit over here, scratching my head, and drinking.