I pondered: What could be the cause of this nonsensical and untimely passing?
Sitting with my knee raised as a prop for my elbow and my fist tucked under my chin, I thought. Could this be it?
(Flashback)
It’s a sunny afternoon in the beginning of June. I’m driving my beastly gray SUV to downtown Bethesda to purchase a new lens. I have been dissatisfied with my old lens, the focus was slow, the pictures less than satisfactorily sharp. I want, I need a new lens.
A spherical, bespectacled, fast-talking, photo-taking salesperson IDs “the perfect” lens for me but 3 minutes after I enter the store. He goes over the specs, the price. I am convinced. I love it. I’m ready to swipe my card. Then, out of nowhere, he asks me how many batteries I carry in my bag.
“You don’t carry around two batteries?!” He looks at me, his eyes bugging behind his thick glasses. The shrewd little eyes catch a look of doubt upon my face. He immediately adds, “I’ll sell you generic. You should have it, either way. This one’s cheap.” He scans the thing and throws it in the plastic shopping bag. Ooooo Kay.
Well, that’s the scene that popped into my head as I sat looking introspective on the second floor balcony of the quad. “I might as well give it a try,” thought I. Thus, I reluctantly lifted the deceased from its resting place. Still dubious, I removed the generic brand battery that I had inserted only several weeks ago and replaced it with the old Nikon brand one. I held my breath. I flipped the switch.
Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click
With the tap of my right index finger, the camera snapped 10-20 shots in a row. No stickage of the shutter. No freezing.
(Alleluia Chorus from Handel’s Messiah)
The unstoppable duo is back.
(Moral of the story: don’t buy generic and mistrust fast-talking salespersons.)
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