The small beetle that tried to take refuge in my suitcase ought to have been the first indication that my hotel room would be less than perfect. The sheets and towels looked clean. There were fresh tissues a new roll of toilet paper, and a bed for the night. Those were the priorities of what I required, so I shrugged and thought, '
no big deal.'
I went about my normal nightly routine, freshening up, laying out my clothes for the next day, fetching ice and flipping through the TV channels. My day of travel had been far more trying than I had anticipated; the four hour drive from the airport to my hotel may have significantly contributed to this desire of wanting to tuck in ASAP. As one does these days, I started looking for an outlet near to the bed, so that my phone/alarm clock could benefit from a restful snooze. There was one conveniently located right beneath the shelf-nightstand beside my bed. '
Perfect,' I thought, as it would be in reach of my arm when in the morning I'd be drowsily seeking the button to silence the alarm.
Blindly, for what did I have to fear or to look for,?I reached to plug in the charger and to my absolute horror my unsuspecting digits were entangled in the trap of a villain most foul.
Spider.
Ripping back my hand, I immediately began to shake it as if the motion would purge my mind of the sticky sense-memory that still gives me the chills. After this ritual that was done in vain, I kneeled down to peer at the extent of her kingdom.
It was far worse than I imagined.
Three battalions of eight legged privates lie in wait for graduation day. Their queen and commander lurked in her protected cell, watching me watching her watching me.
Know that I have profound respect for spiders. I understand that they create a balance in nature and that the odds of her troops marching against me in the night were small to none. However, seeing this army and their master thriving in a hotel room implied that there was plenty to eat, enough to propagate not merely one egg sack, but three.
The milk duds beneath their fortress must have been her traps, the lure she used to draw unsuspecting crawlers to their tombs.
Not wanting any part of this war between the eight and the six legged ones, I came to a decision; it was the spider and her children or me.
With great haste, I dialed the desk and though they were less than thrilled with my complaints, they agreed to relinquish me of this post...the next day.
I'd have to endure another seven and a half hours in her lair, with no tooth brush, not that it's relevant to this drama, but it was a pertinent fact to me at the time.
In a flash, all of my scattered belongings were returned to their bags. The spider and her minions would not be throwing their grappling hooks into my trappings if I could help it! Even my shoes were artfully shoved into my suitcase with whom I have shared so many adventures. We have weathered far worse than that spider's glare and we would indeed live to travel another day, leaving our foe in peace after what was a very long night.
Until next week, dear readers,
Your humble author,
S. Faxon
PS - Don't forget to look beneath the nightstands...
