One of my favorite memories from my senior trip was of someone making fun of me.
We were trundling across the countryside on our way to Prague, being about as rowdy as you'd expect a bus-full of high school seniors to be. In between rounds of Beatles sing-alongs, one of my classmates climbed up on the seats and suspended himself, spread-eagled across the aisle between the luggage racks. "Look guys, It's Andy Kerr, taking a picture!" he called, before tumbling to the floor in a heap. I laughed—not at the instant Karma, but that my reputation was cemented even then.
I thought about that memory a few weeks ago, as I was crawling through the grass, stalking the ever-elusive Perfect Photo. As an ant crawled over my arm, I decided that, once I got the photo I wanted, I would stand up in that exact same place, and show you the photo I didn't take.