The sun was already in the middle of its set when I got out to Alki, so I could expect to make most of the journey home in the midst of darkness. The opportunity to use my headlight perked me up as I dodged rollerbladers and the chorus-line joggers who find the pedestrian path a little too docile for their activities, yet aren't quite up to the excitement of running around in the middle of the street. "I should have at least 2 hours of battery left," I thought, "I'll be home in a third of that!" Ten minutes later, I'm noticing that there is no longer a bright spot leading the way home. Dead batteries tell no tales. (Neither do live batteries, but who cares what they think?)

Biking in the dark along the streets between Alki and downtown Seattle is a potentially life-threatening situation involving semitrailers passing a foot or so to your left, forcing one into potholes, train tracks, and the ever popular "drain grating with spaces wider than your tires". This was my big chance to use the 6 bucks I always carry in my bike bag! Save my life, energizers! I walked into Alki grocery thing wheeling my vehicle in front of me. They're reasonably understanding about people with bikes, but I didn't think they'd like me browsing the aisles with it in tow, so I left it right in front of the lotto/scratch ticket machines. As I walked away, I felt an invisible cord unreeling between me and it. What if someone stole my computer? Or light? Or the whole damn bike? I had to resist the urge to walk backwards away from it to the battery display.

Once in line, I had a good view of the area. I watched people go in and out, and all of them gave my bicycle a good glare. One man stopped next to it, looked around, saw me looking like some kind of anxious mom bear, and kept on going. Grr. Don't make me run after you in these funny shoes, mister. (Serious, they're really slippery.)

Wouldn't you know it, I picked the line in which the checker happened to be selling an entire week's worth of groceries to a close personal friend, who was paying with some form of check which required huge machines to be dragged up from under the counter. These machines then had to be started up, maintained, and coaxed to slurp the check things up. This whole process probably took around, oh, musta been three thousand years. The whole time, people are coming in, examining my apparently fascinating tires, making my nerves heat up, then moving on to the important business of buying cheez' n' crackers. Jesus hurry up people.

Finally, it was the guy in front of me's turn. He's buying alcohol, so he needs his ID. Oh WAIT, he forgot his MONEY. Sorry pal, this isn't one of those stores where they let you wash dishes for beer or trade in your shoes. My turn!

The checker is a short, whole milk americano. She reads the battery packaging, "oh, these have TITANIUM technology!" Yes, unfortunately they are the only titanium related anything on my bike. Gimme. "Are these for your HEADLIGHT?" They sure are. I like being safe, you see. "What happens if your TAILLIGHT burns out?" It just doesn't. I don't know how it works. I think it's magic. Give me. Those batteries. "I bet you do all sorts of safe things! I wish the other bikers did! One of them just ran out in front of me at a stop sign the other day!" I sure am safe. See my big helmet? It stops at the stop line. Oh, and by the way SELL ME SOMETHING.

Hilariously, the batteries wound up costing over 6 dollars. Crap. Good thing I also keep my credit card with me. I replaced the cells and got out of there.

I guess you had to be there. Believe me, the whole situation was glistening in human interest. My new batteries match the bike better, too. Wait, why does it matter what they look like? They're in the light! Well the light is TRANSPARENT! HOORAY FOR IMAC AND STARTING THAT STYLING TREND.

19.96 / 40.49