a camp story: 8 legged freaks

so i've promised some camp stories. considering its been almost two months, i figure i should dish one out of the old memory box for ya.

when people asked me where i worked this summer, i usually reply "just outside of austin". the truth is "just outside" really means about an hour+ drive that begins with a creep through the texas road construction (which seems like a rather large sandbox in which grown men push dirt around with their big machines because theres absolutely no progress) and then speed through the hill country at 75 mph on the second most dangerous road in texas (most likely due to the insane twists and turns) as hundreds of motorcycles whiz by you on their afternoon joy rides.

i guess technically you could say "just outside of austin," but in that giant metropolis of the west, there isn't much nature. at camp, we were definitely outside in the 'ole western wilderness. stinging nettle doesn't sound fun, does it? i saw many wonders, such as water moccasins as i lifeguarded down at the lake (more to come on that), a huge mountain goat strolling along the side of a cliff, albino deer, and, of course, spiders. oh, the spiders. these aren't you're typical tame domestic spiders. you know, the ones you can squash with one blow with a shoe. no, any old shoe would most likely bounce off these guys. they are the infamous "8 legged freaks."

the first tale comes from my second week in texas. work week had ended and orientation had begun. we had just gotten in from a day full of team competition and endured way too many stretched out information meetings. i was in desperate need of a shower. i grabbed my towel and clothes and made my way to the cabin bathroom. as i did so, i could see myself framed by the doorway in the mirror. consequently, i could see the other side of the door frame reflected in the mirror. a little above eyelevel on the left, i could see a black blob. having never noticed this before, i set my focus on it. my eyes adjusted and the blob became clear. my eyes widened beyond their natural state. to my horror there was a massive...and i mean massive...spider anxiously waiting for its oblivious victim to enter the bathroom.

being the cool, calm, and collected kind of girl that i am, i simply turned and gracefully (yet silently, so as not to allow my predator to know that he had been compromised. come on y'all, i watch alias.) walked over to my barfing suitcase (figurative speech) and picked up my grassy tennis shoe. i know. earlier i mentioned that shoes were useless against these creatures, but this was before i knew any better. my cabinmates noticed that i had moved with stealth...so i guess i wasn't very stealthy. they caught it with their two eyeballs...i'm sure that the spider had four times greater of a chance of doing the same. but nonetheless, they curiously asked what i was doing. i signaled for them to hush as i turned nonchalantly back to the bathroom doorway.

here it was, the moment of truth. could a girl really take on this kind of beast? i stepped into the doorway, immediately turning to the left, shoe raised in my right. he wasn't where i had expected, but i kept myslef composed. i quickly spotted him, just a little lower than his original hiding place.

smack! right on target, with all my strength, i slammed the sole of my shoe into that sucker. but it wasn't over. as i lifted the shoe, expecting to see the corpse of an 8 legged freak fixed upon the door frame, the 4-inch-in-diameter spider dropped to the floor. dazed and confused and a little injured, he tried to run. honestly, i don't know if that proves how tough this guy was or if it reflects the weakness of my swing...but we'll just overlook that. but i was right on top of him again, beating the ground spastically as if i was playing one of those "bop the groundhog on the head" games. but it wasn't a game. by the time i was through, all that was left of him was a mangled, lifeless ball of...spider.

and then i let out a piercing, hysterical scream. yes, i screamed and squirmed indeed.

whats funny is that it wasn't until i had beaten the thing to death that i lost my composure. my cabinmates couldn't help but double over in laughter at my reaction. i had kept my sanity until the deed was done. and then i lost it. i didn't have any more encounters with huge spiders indoors after that (although a brown recluse hanging out in the bathroom trashcan didn't ease my paranoidness).

my next major encounter with an 8 legged freak was nearly three weeks later. second term. water wars. it was a pleasant afternoon, kids were everywhere throwing water balloons, jumping in the grode pond (it says it all right there), slingshoting water balloons across the entire baseball field, etc. there was even a tarp on the side of a slight hill. complete with dish soap and running water from the hose. our own make shift waterslide. of course, i had to try this thing out.

running start...leap...wind-knocked-out-of-me landing...slide. oh! so much fun! i got up out of the muddy puddle at the bottom of the slide, coverd in clippings of grass and leaves. i had to try it again...i wanted to go further.

repeat all of the above...but faster, higher, harder...further. i came to rest at the edge of the road. i rolled over, laughing...that laughter soon became a silent scream. eye-level, just four feet away, was a tarantula. i'm not even slightly kidding. i had heard rumors of these things around camp...one had reportedly been sighted at the barn. i thought it was all just fun and games. after all, those things don't really exist in the wild. well, this assumption on my part was now shattered by reality...which crawled slowly, like a zombie accross a graveyard, just inches before me.

i forced myself up and ran to the top of the slide, where norm (your typical outdoorsy band nerd...wait. i guess hes not so typical) sat. i knew he would take care of it. no matter how brave i had proved myself in my previous encounter, i wasn't about to take on this guy. a shoe against a tarantula is like a toothpick against a dragon. norm's eyes lit up (much different than my reaction) when i told him and directed him toward the 8 legged freak. my duty done, i squealed and screamed once again at the thought. i watched from a distance as he picked it up. holy crap. insane, i tell ya. it makes me shudder just thinking of it now. once he had it in his hands, he tried to stroke it or something crazy and it lifted up its front legs in protest. "he's a feisty little guy." ya think??

so, i'm telling y'all, they're really out there. they don't just exist in textbooks, the national geographic channel, or the city zoo.

more camp stories: the worst day of camp, dance with me?