The NFL draft is creeping up (April 26-27 here in NYC), so naturally, our NFL draft preview issue is creeping up, as well. I’m working on a few stories on soon-to-be pros/very rich 22-year-olds, including a story on five guys whose stock has been steadily rising since the end of the season. On Thursday, The Mag flew all five—Dexter Jackson, Chase Ortiz, Jordan Dizon, Antoine Cason and Jacob Hester—to NYC for our first fashion-infused photo shoot.
If you’ve ever wondered how many folks it takes to produce one of those glossy, high-concept magazine fashion spreads, I can now answer for you: Many. Many, many, many. Photographer, assistants, stylist, assistant, hair and makeup, assistant, bus driver, video crew, photo editor, video producer, writer. Oh, right, and athletes.
We spent the day trolling around NYC in a fancy tour bus, stopping at four quintessential NY spots for photo shoots. The guys, all of whom had never been to NY, were super cooperative and I think even had fun. They also got a taste of what life will be like very soon: folks staring and asking for autographs (even though they had no idea who they were) and fawning over their every desire. Even desires they didn’t know they had (like free hoodies at location one and free drinks at location four). I can’t tell you how many times they were offered “anything you need.”
The most interesting moment, to me, came during our shoot on the Roosevelt Island tram. You know, the one from Spiderman. As our ridiculous entourage was boarding the tram for our first of seven rides across the East River, a bunch of commuters also attempted to board the same tram.
“Wait! Wait. We’re letting regular people on too?” our stressed-out photographer barked at the tram operator. “Regular people? We can’t have regular people on here.”
Then, two things happened at the exact same time.
Dexter Jackson, who was inside the tram, already in full model pose, said: “Hey. I think I’m a pretty regular person. Does that mean I can’t be here?”
And a man in an orange jacket, who had already sat down and settled in for his ride, said: “Hey. I don’t think I’m a ‘regular person’. Who’s to say I’m regular?”
I guess it depends on the definition.