Last Coldplay photo, I promise, but truth be told, I'm quite fond of this shot for how it came to be. Explanation? If you've never seen Coldplay live, you wouldn't know that they MOVE ALL OVER THE PLACE. We're talkin' a main stage, a B stage (downstage left) and C stage (frickin' out past the soundboards... whose idea was that??).

This is all well and good for show purposes, but for a humble photog, it can be quite the pain in the butt... ooorrr super fun. Granted, I had already talked to Coldplay's crew to see where they'd be moving and when, but in true Alli fashion, by the time I got up to the bleachers to shoot the wides, I already lost count of the songs. Good forsight kid, poor follow through - usually a notion I'm only familiar with in my personal life. Nice work.

So. I see the stage lights go dark. Crap. Crap. Crap. They're on the move to C.

Well, my sprint to get over there was literally through mud/crap/swamp that came up to my shins. When I say "sprint", I mean attempting to move my feet as fast as the Okefenokee would release them, which, was by no means a textbook definition of sprint. That being said, on this voyage to Coldplay, Stage C, I could do nothing but laugh. What was I going to do? Curse the skies for opening and dumping the Atlantic on us for three days? Nope. This was like the Oregon Trail of concert photography. My bag was covered in mud, I was covered in mud and I was cradling my camera like a mother and child under "Native American" fire. Thank God all of my oxes were already dead or I really would have been S.O.L.

End result? A lot of silly "WTF?/how in God's name am I going to get this shot?/what do I do if NJ eats me?" laughter, seeing an acoustic "Billie Jean" and shooting a not-so-shabby shot of one of the biggest bands in the world. I giggled and shook my head through the entire song as I kept sinking lower and lower into New Jersey.

I love photos. I love music. I love mud.

I do not love New Jersey.