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Planning this felt like grandmaster chess against the city—except the kings and queens weren’t pieces, they were real brides and grooms, all trying to checkmate me at d4. One wrong move, and the entire board collapses.
It was Fourth of July weekend, downtown Chicago. Total chaos. Normally, I’d say no to this kind of tourist-heavy madness. But this wasn’t just a job—it was for Tim, my old neighbor. The kid I used to shoot airsoft guns at, now asking me to shoot the biggest shot of his life.
The Buildup — Players in Motion
People were flying in from every direction. Alice’s family came from London. Tim’s crew, Florida. Me? I woke up in a tent in Michigan, then drove two hours into the city.
The bait? Brunch at Café Brauer. The trap? A hike through Lincoln Park straight into position.
The Battlefield — Lincoln Park Chaos
From above, both families watched from the Lincoln Park bridge, generals on a ridge. I was already under the Honeycomb, posted up with my second shooter. But we were getting swarmed: quinceañeras, wedding parties, rogue influencers—name it, we dodged it. But I had a permit. A golden ticket. I bounced multiple wedding parties—entourages 20 deep—because Tim’s moment wasn’t about to be ruined by someone else’s Pinterest dream.
The Approach — Moving Pieces
As Tim’s location pinged closer, my second shooter broke off to track them. He caught them weaving past the exact wedding crews I’d just cleared out. It was poetic. Like walking through previews of the life they were stepping into.
And then: my final move. Hissing (yes, actual hissing) at the last loiterers. To my surprise, people cleared out. They stood back like an audience waiting for the curtain to rise.
The Reveal — Hiding in Plain Sight Now came the part I hadn’t thought through—how to blend in. I planted myself dead center under the Honeycomb, pretending to take macro shots of flowers. Back turned. Camera hidden.
Then—they arrived. Tim and Alice stepping into frame. Alice was laughing, eyes forward, thinking she was headed toward brunch. She had no idea what was behind her: skyline, sculptural wood, wildflowers... and a past life about to end, with a new one seconds away.
The Proposal — Tunnel Vision I turned from the sunflowers and started shooting. Nick circled back in. Alice never noticed. She only had eyes for Tim. And then—he dropped to one knee. Checkmate.
The Aftermath — Applause From the Bridge As Tim stood up, victorious, the entire crowd around us erupted. Cheers from parents watching above. Alice, lost in the moment. A little bit in shock. A little bit in wonderland.
Lincoln Park’s Honeycomb Pavilion has a $200 paid permit option for a reason. Nestled between skyline views, wild prairie grass, and the reflection pond, it’s the kind of place tourists stumble into while locals book it out months in advance. On a holiday weekend? It’s chaos. But with a permit in hand and the right framing, it became our private stage. One square on the board. The only one that mattered.
No second takes. No chance to run it back. This wasn’t just about coverage—it was personal. Tim and I grew up in the same neighborhood. Same grade school, junior high, high school. Family vacations together. Our older brothers are best friends. There was a lot at stake here. I couldn’t let my brother down. So I did what I had to do to guarantee that moment for him. Every shot had to land, because I owed it to every year that led me here.
The defining moment didn’t happen through my lens—it happened later, in the footage Nick Dov captured from across the park. Watching it back, I saw Tim and Alice making their way through an asteroid belt of brides and grooms—literally walking past the same wedding parties I had just bounced minutes before. In real time, I was too deep in the zone to notice. I was under the Honeycomb, forming what felt like a black hole of focus, pushing back reality to protect one clean frame of intention.
But in hindsight? That quiet glide through chaos, surrounded by tuxedos and veils, felt like foreshadowing. A subtle passing through the preview of their future—weddings all around them, and one big yes waiting just steps ahead.
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