"The light was good, the time felt right, I reached into my bag for my camera and began my pre-shoot Settings Ritual. The camera wouldn't power on."
Here's what happened:
No worries, the battery must simply be dead, right? I was sure it had charge when we left, but I could have been wrong, good thing I brought the spare battery that I found after a moment's rummaging in the renowned Murse (classic black canvas edition), dropped in to the battery slot and nothing.
f#%^ a duck.
I was heartbroken to say the least. This, to me, is like I were Jesse James (the cool gunslinger, not the tattooed car guy) and my 6-gun wouldn't fire, or Bob Vila finding that his hammer will no longer drive nails, or Mario Andretti's car refusing to start. Or, you know, that **Twilight Zone** scene where the guy with glasses is finally the last man on Earth in a library full of books only his glasses break? It was like that. I wanted to drop to my knees in the mist (driving rain would have been more dramatic, but then we likely would have not been out wandering the streets) and yell "NNOOOOOOO!".
I felt betrayed. My trusty camera, my magic box, my soul-stealer. Sure, I had #2 back up camera at home (in Hagerstown), but I was going to take pictures this time! Urban blight, black and white, city scenes, Perhaps even Queens (okay, not Queens - we never left Manhattan).
Sure we had fun in the city; I had a blast, like I said before, but the irony of my camera suddenly breaking was a moment of despair in an otherwise really cool trip. Yes, I'll be getting it fixed. I just can't believe it just stopped working like that.