What if the backdrop collapses and traps a lowrider under a mountain of vinyl?

It was a standard Tuesday, or Wednesday, or whenever the universe decides to drop a sudden operational crisis into your lap.

My phone buzzed. A text from Jen:

“Hey, do you want to set up a booth on October 3rd for an autism lowrider event? I have two other photoshoots that day, so I can’t do it.”

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Read that again.

Jen has two photoshoots. I have… zero experience running a full lighting rig by myself.

My fingers didn't even bother texting back; my hand went straight for the call button. The moment Jen answered, the interrogation began.

“Are you going to be there at all?” I blurted out. “Is this a solo venture for me?! Jen, I have literally never paid attention to how you set up the lights or the background!”

Jen’s response? She started laughing. “You know you can do this!”

Now, "You know you can do this" is a lovely, supportive thing to say. It’s warm. It’s encouraging. It is also zero percent helpful when you are trying to remember whether the big shiny light goes on the left, the right, or directly into your own retinas.

Naturally, I didn't stop there. The rapid-fire "what ifs" began pouring out of my mouth like water from a burst pipe. Scenarios started blossoming in my brain like a full-blown cinematic thriller:

• Will Jen actually be available when her phone rings and I have an urgent question?

• Will she answer the call BEFORE I completely lose my mind and start panicking on-site?

• What if the backdrop collapses and traps a lowrider under a mountain of vinyl?

• What if I press a button and accidentally summon an alien mothership instead of firing the flash?

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As my breathing spiraled from "mild panic" into full "hyperventilating into an imaginary paper bag," the gravity of the situation fully set in. I was having serious, multi-layered doubts about going solo.

“Can I come over the day before so you can prep me for this?!” I asked, the job having grown in my head from a fun community event into a high-stakes, multi-million-dollar production.

“And if I text you 911 on the day of, will you come right away? Can you drop by and check on me?!”

Jen’s answer to my impending emotional collapse?

More laughing.

“You will be fine,” she chuckled.

So, here we are. October 3rd is fast approaching. I haven't quite mastered the art of lighting placement yet, but I have made a solemn vow: from this exact moment on, every time Jen sets up a photoshoot, I am standing right behind her, taking notes like I’m studying for the bar exam.

Lights? Paying attention. Camera? Watching every setting. Action? Praying I don't have to send that 911 text.

Will the backdrop stand tall? Will the lighting be flawless? Or will Jen get an SOS text mid-shoot?

Stay tuned to see how Ali did on her very first solo adventure with lights, camera, and a backdrop!

COMING UP IN PART 2: The Big Event Day! Did the lights turn on? Did the backdrop stay up? Did Jen have to abandon her photoshoots to save Ali from a total lighting meltdown? Hit the follow button or drop a comment below with your favorite photoshoot fail so you don't miss the reveal!