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Working at The Hatchet has sometimes made me feel like I have a secret identity. Sure, Clark Kent may get to disappear into a telephone booth and reemerge in tight spandex and a sweet red cape, but I get to don a totally awkward-looking camera backpack, stuff a reporter's notebook in my pocket and tuck a sparkly pen behind my ear.
My roommates are probably the only ones who truly understand how many hours I spend at that precious little townhouse at 2140 G St. In fact, I am convinced that if I am one day kidnapped and sold into slavery, the ladies I live with will just assume I'm still at The Hatchet.
I started working for the paper in 2003 as an overzealous freshman. I literally do not think I turned down one assignment, which unfortunately says more about my floundering social life that year rather than my work ethic. I often elicit skeptical looks when I tell our photographers that we used to use film in the photo department, which has since gone completely digital. Yes, that's right, boys - I would develop in the (gasp!) darkroom. We would scan negatives. We couldn't use the Facebook to search for caption information when we forgot to get names of people in our photos. We would walk eight miles in the snow to Watergate to get our color film developed. Oh, the days of yore.
But seriously, I can honestly say that working at The Hatchet has been my favorite part about attending GW. I feel like I know so much more about the SA, the administration and Square 54 than the average GW student - and that's just through osmosis. I've had the opportunity to photograph the President of the United States and Kevin Federline. I've driven a pick-up truck to Philadelphia to photograph women's basketball. I've had the celestial pleasure of going on three different retreats to Ocean City, Md., and if you've ever been to that lovely locale before, I think you know what I'm talking about. These opportunities are all in a day's work, my friend.
