Hostage

NOVEMBER 2, 2008

Man, it sucks like hell to be arachnophobic. For two days straight I have been held hostage in my car by a spider. Yep, same spider, I assure you. Ugly little bastard. I say "little", but clearly he was larger than I could handle. Hell, the ones the size of a pinhead freak me out. It doesn't help that I have this terrible feeling that they "know" this and that if they were big enough to be seen, I would see tiny tongues sticking out and wagging at me as they watch me become paralyzed with fear. Sorta like a serial killer. Don't they get off on watching people squirm?

Anyway, back to the freakin' arachnid. It was all clear-ish, green-ish, white-ish. Like the color of things that are plastic and glow-in-the-dark. About the size of a quarter (I SAID it was little) and crawling on MY window as if it didn't have 3 others to choose from. So again, just like it knows EXACTLY what it's doing, it crawls along the bottom of my window, then up the side and, yep, you guessed it, out of sight and right into the crack of my door. Son of a biotch. Now what? The first incident happened while I was driving on 45 South. Oh man, most of you know I'm more dangerous than a blind man having a seizure behind the wheel when it comes to the possibility of a spider getting on me. Haha, so what do I do? I drive faster. To blow him off, right? I maintain that the concept would be a good one if this freak of nature didn't have 8 friggin' legs to hang on with. My mind is telling me, suuuuuurely he can't hold on at THIS speed (and you don't want to know what THAT speed was); my heart is telling me, yep, soon as you open that door he's gonna jump on your ass. I had intended to go grab something to eat, but no way was I going to let the window down. Besides, screw food, I didn't even know how I was going to get out of the car.

So I make it home and pull into the garage and...sit. I finally muster all the courage I can, shrink as far over toward the passenger seat as humanly possible, and KICK the door open. I wait and scan feverishly for any sight of him and then muster even more courage to leap outta the car. I look and look and look - no spider. So he DID blow away! Yippeee!

Sike.

The next day, Friday, I am coming home again and this time, I was leaving Last Concert Cafe. I was heading to the 24-hour Walgreens semi-near my house and waiting at a light when, lo and behold, out he crawls. Same friggin' erratic scrambling path across my window and straight to the crack. Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

This time I stop immediately and pull into a brightly lit parking lot so I can take care of this once and for all. Mind you, it's Halloween and I'm in costume, so there I stand in a parking lot on Wayside at 3 a.m. with my cleavage-from-hell top on and a fox tail hanging from my butt. I might as well have had a sign that says 'please, why don't you come over and check me out and hey, rob me while you're at it!' It's beyond me how I can be so much more deathly afraid of this spider than of getting assaulted and robbed in a parking lot at 4 a.m. Yes, by now I had been sitting in my car for an hour, watching and waiting for the asshole to come out so I could jump out and get him. This, as opposed to getting out to look for him and giving him the opportunity to jump out and get me.

I needed light, but it's ironic that I seemed to be sitting under what must have been the brightest flood light in all of Houston, because let me tell you, it was like moths to a flame. A woman, by herself, in the middle of the night, sitting in a parking lot on a bad side of town. I have no doubt that some of them probably had good intentions. And those that weren't good samaritans were either morbidly curious or leering at me with their tongues practically hanging out. Don't get me wrong, I am all too aware of how freakin' crazy I looked. Staring at my windows, eyes darting around, interior light on (just in case he actually made it through a crack somehow and wasn't just all folded up and sitting in one), lol, and in costume. Yep. I'm a freak.

I finally work up the nerve (AGAIN) to kick the door open and leap out. AGAIN, I see no spider. I am cussing and hopping around and yelling and MAD. And pathetic. Haha. But I was determined to get this sucker before I got back in. Period. And then by some miracle (I guess God wanted me to make it home that night), I see him. He's in the door frame, in this cozy little web, den, lair -- whatever -- thing, where I can barely see him (much less get to him quick enough to kill him). YES DEA, I SAID KILL HIM. If you like me as much as you say you do, then you will realize it was him or me, as I assure you, had he gotten inside and crawled on me while I was on 45, you would have been attending my funeral after I flipped out and lost control and ran into a concrete barrier. ANYWAY, then I spend the next 30-45 minutes trying to work up the nerve to stick my makeshift weapon in this stupid hole to get him. I'd get SOOOOOO close and then jump back and cuss. This one poor couple circled me at a distance for what must've been an hour. I could tell they wanted to help, but were probably scared to death that I was a psychopath. I am not too sure they wouldn't be right at this point, but I could practically

Publish Post

hear the conversation...

We HAVE to stop! Look at her, she needs help!

Yeah, she needs help alright!

Maybe we should call the police.

Maybe we should get the hell outta here before she sees us and chops us up and puts us in her freezer...

Of course this just made me laugh, which made me look THAT much crazier.

I finally decide I should spritz him with the only thing I had - Caress Cucumber & Green Tea body spray (my logic is such that if I spray a critter with enough of anything it will kill 'em). I finally get the guts to spray and then shove the cardboard thingy I had been holding in my kung fu death-grip for over an hour into the crack. He came tumbling out and I squashed him (sorry Dea). I jumped in my car and said screw Walgreens and went straight home. By this time, it was daylight.

I don't know what it is. I've held snakes. I've caught and released (and attempted to release - but that's a different blog) mice. I can deal with a friggin' tree roach the size of a hamster and have actually picked up and thrown away a dead rat I saw near a building when some chick was freaking out. What gives? Why the spiders? Many of you know I found a giant monster of one in my hair on the nape of my neck when I was 5. Maybe it was that. Maybe I should check into overcoming the fear. I mean, let's face it, spiders aren't going anywhere. Well, I guess in the meantime it would serve me well to put some spider spray in my car...