TheBanyanTree: Banyanarama: Last Tale

[Mike Pingleton]

This is a tale best told around the campfire; not for the squeamish, not for
the arachnophobe.

Driving back from Banyanarama, all happy and glowing, I'm still grooving on
the weekend's events.  Up and down the I-80 rollercoaster west, through 
Pennsylvania, jink over 76 to Akron and then slanting down 71 to Columbus.
A magnificent sunset as I clear Columbus; west on I-70 as the sky is on fire.

Against that backdrop I can only see the silhouette of the spider as it drops
down a strand of silk from the visor above me, between my arms at ten and two
on the steering wheel, between my legs and into the blackness of the floor
in front of my seat.

A good-sized spider, maybe three fourths of an inch in diameter.  I wanted to
catch it on my hand and send it out the window, but I was passing a large
semi at the time and was concentrating on my driving, and missed the chance.
Oh well.  It'll crawl up under the dash or the seat somewhere, I thought.

I'm not really afraid of spiders; in fact I find them fascinating.  I take 
pictures of them, gather materials; I'm thinking of writing a small book on 
them.  So it's no big deal to have a spider in the car.  I have a couple
friends who are arachnophobic; it can be very embarrassing, and they have
my sympathy.  It's not funny.

It's not funny when the spider crawls across my right foot, somewhere near
Dayton.  I manage a choked "gaaahh!" and shake my foot vigorously.  Cripes,
but that feels creepy.  I'm driving barefoot, having shucked my sandals.  I 
don't see where putting my sandals on will help matters much.

I'm really tired - I didn't go to bed until after two, and now it's catching
up with me.  I stop at the first rest stop in Indiana, to take a break, splash
my face.  I shine a flashight onto the floor of the car - no spider in sight.
Up under the dash - nope.  Under the seat - no spider there.  Well, maybe
it crawled up into all the gear and clothes in the back seat.

Half an hour later the spider crawls across my right foot again, heading the 
other way.  Gaaahh!  I shake my foot again.  Somewhere down there in the dark
a spider is crawling back and forth, and I don't know where or why or if my
foot will be crawled upon again.  Both of my feet are starting to itch.

Okay Mike, get a grip.  Your foot's just a part of the landscape to that lil'
spider.  Yeah it feels creepy, but that spider's just looking for somewhere
to go.  Try to relax, you don't want to lose control of the car.  Gaaahh!  
Left foot this time.  Whew!  Only a hundred eighty miles of this to go!

I'm tired, but I'm not sleepy anymore.  I make it through Indianapolis
without incident, stop one more time at the rest stop near Crawfordsville,
shine the light again before I start again.  No spider in sight.  Well, 
maybe it's really gone now.

Just past Danville I felt the faintest nudge against my left big toe, and
around Oakwood I felt something brush my right heel.  Damn spider's doing
figure eights around my feet now.

I made it home, parked the car and crashed into bed around midnight.  In the 
morning I emptied the car, washed it and returned it to my daughter Ann.
Last night I realized I had forgotten to tell her about the spider.

Keep your shoes on, Annie!