When we walk up, he’s hunched over, pouring gas from a plastic red canister into the small opening of a generator. It’s early evening, and getting muggy. Luke and I scowl at the dark clouds forming above us, and Luke instinctually puts a hand on his camera strap and presses it to his side. Curtis stands up, wipes the sweat from his brow with a bright white cloth, and extends his hand.
This isn’t our first time meeting Curtis Bright. Months earlier, Luke and I huddled over his food at the Food Truck Bazaar on Colonial Drive, willing to brave the rain for a vegan dish that he posted as an add-on to his standard fare. This is, however, the first time that we’ve had a chance to see the SWAT team (Curtis and his wife Krystal) operate behind the scenes.
Curtis’ handshake is tight, and you can feel his anxious energy as he explains that they are running behind with their setup. To kill some time, Luke and I dip into the bar next door where, we discover, there is enough local color to keep us writing for days.