Thursday, July 21, 2005


I was almost killed by a bug.

Actually, it was a pretty terrifying encounter. I was driving along the highway when I glanced at my rearview mirror and noticed a spider dangling from the ceiling. I was understandably startled and did a little freak out--swerving uncomfortably close to the guard rail.

My panic increased when it started to slink down on a web towards me.

I tried to focus on both the road and the bug, which is just about impossible, but I managed to swat it away with my hand before my entire body froze up with fear.

Unfortunately, seeing a spider dangling from the roof of my car was only slightly less terrifying than being aware that there was a spider in an unknown location in my car. My mind raced. I tried to focus on the road and simultaneously scan the interior, but my grip was too tight on the wheel and my car jerked slightly side to side. I was suddenly aware of a thousand hiding spaces in my car, including my own arms and hair. My breath hitched as I realized I might have to ride the full 15 minutes to my destination with the unwanted passenger lurking somewhere unseen.

Just when I thought mental collapse imminent, I spotted the intruder on the seat next to me. Knowing where it was helped me gain some control, but what to do next? Let it sit there? Hope it doesn't move?

I knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate fully on the road until the little bugger was gone, so I decided to take action. Off came my flip flop, and with a single blow the menace was dead.

I tossed the offending shoe away (I admit, I wasn't thinking clearly), and had to finish the drive with one bare foot. A small price to pay, I think, for my renewed emotional stability.

I don't like killing bugs, and when I look back on it rationally I feel pretty guilty about the tragic end of that spider.

But in the moment, with adrenaline pumping and a paralyzing fear echoing in my brain, all I could think was it's him or me, and the little fucker is going down.

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