Near Death Experience

In honor of my friend Laine Odle's near death encounter with a hideous yellow spider the other day, I thought I'd tell of my own experience a little over a year ago.

I'd just spent eleven glorious days of vacation in Lewisville and the Dallas Metro area with my soon to be fiancé. In fact, we'd finished lunch at "Mother's Daughter's Cafe" over on Old Orchard and Main where I'd made the decision for proposing marriage to my Bevin come Christmas time. I had the pot roast, excellent fare, and a fried chocolate pie to go. My unwitting-bride-to-be had some kind of sandwich I think, but my mind was on far heavier things than her diet at the time. We said hello to Ms. Donna dining with her son and daughter-in-law, paid for the meal, and said our loving good-byes in the parking lot. The usual three hundred miles stood between me and San Antonio; I'd been gone a touch too long from work and the natives needed taming. Had to get back quick!

With the fried pie in a brown paper sack sitting in the passenger seat, all I needed was something to wash it down. A quick stop at the Chevron around the corner would fix me. It was a cool day, I left the Pontiac's windows cracked, no sense in wasting gas on A/C, right?

It's customary when traveling to get the right amount of food and drink for the road. Too little finds you irritable and twitchy, cursing every blue-hair and gas station you pass like a foul-mouthed Sooner hopped up on those 'little white pills'. This is unsafe. Too much, however, will bog you down. Worse yet, the urge to urinate will be strong at the most inopportune moment and you will pull over. This costs time. As a trucker, I learned the right mix for me in the travel food formula is a 20 oz. bottle of Dr. Pepper, 1 12 oz. bag of roasted almonds, 1 8 oz. bag of David's sunflower seeds, and a pack of Camel's- that last part is optional, I've been clear of the cigarettes for almost six months now. All of these coupled with the pie would get me home in fine fashion and hours to spare.

I jump out on I-35E south and weave through the lunch hour traffic. Anyone from a big city like Houston, San Antonio or the Dallas area knows that Rush Hour is a myth. There are in fact many rush hours throughout the day and I zoomed headlong down the throat of a big one! Again, the air was cool, the sun was shining, the Grand Prix purring, and I was mentally plotting the how's and when's of proposing to my girl. On Christmas Day? Too cliched. Where am I going to get the ring? Charles would know. What's my 'plan B'? This is how I thought my way through the construction, closed exits, and potholes.

Lancaster, TX is a poorer suburban town marking the border of South Dallas. I'd spent some time there at the Red Roof Inn (next to the Cracker Barrel) when the company I drove for, Frozen Food Express, was putting me through training. The place, the city, is a dump. Traffic had thinned some by this point in the trip and I'd begun to relax and reminisce on how different my life was since making a short-lived career of trucking. I went to adjust the sun visor and saw legs. Segmented legs of evil, all shiny and reddish-brown like the Devil's polished ass!

I've spoken often of my firm belief that God plans to keep me humble with this insane fear of spiders. It's silly to be as big and strong as I am and practically piss myself at the thought of a spider weighing two grams speeding its way up my left leg. I've also often joked that I was going to die one day while losing control of my car as one swung down out of the sun visor.

For one eternal moment I sat transfixed, staring at the hideous creature crawling around to the front of my sun visor and thought, This is It. The Grande finale. I actually predicted my own end. God does have a sense of humor and I'm the punch line of a joke! I don't recall the lane I was in, but I'd set the cruise control at 67 MPH just moments prior to the grim discovery. This is a magical setting, just slow enough not to bother cops but fast enough to get through city traffic at an even pace. And should you lose control of your vehicle at this speed? Punch line.

A calm swept over me. The steering wheel was in my left hand, my right hand free of drink or food. Stay in control man, feel for something. You've got to crush it before it makes its move- but make damn sure you get it on the first shot, boy! There'll be no second try here. Unaware of anything going on around me, I knew this would require more than a napkin. The idea of touching poisonous spider guts is almost as hateful as its big brother, the one involving my left leg. There in the passenger seat was the answer I sought: sun-warmed fried chocolate pie in a brown paper bag.

In a motion too fast for words, I crushed the menace and sent its body, those sickly legs, bag and all, to the passenger side floorboard. I watched for movement. Nothing. Then came breath and focus. I was supposed to be driving a car, in traffic no less! At some point during the fray my brakes were tapped because I was now doing 40 MPH on a major Interstate highway, thankfully in the slow lane. People honked their horns, but I couldn't care. Heart pounding, head throbbing, I fumbled for the phone. Bevin couldn't hear me in this state, no that'd ruin all my plans for wedded bliss. Nancy! Surrogate mother, wonderful boss! She'd make fun of me, rightly so, but she'd be safe to tell what had just transpired in all my tizzied glory.

It was Nancy who pointed out the answer to my biggest question- how did that thing get into my car in the first place?! She asked if I'd left the windows open over night. Nope, been burned too many times by rain. What about lunch time? No, but I left them cracked... when I ran... into the gas-station... Well, there you go dummy.

'Dummy' indeed! I made the trip back home in relative peace, not even stopping to throw the bag of mashed pie and spider guts away. Bevin was eventually called, long after I'd calmed down. I don't remember her response exactly, the nerves were still slightly shot, but the story had little effect on her saying 'yes' when I proposed last December. We've made a fair deal since then: she'll kill the spiders, I'll handle the crickets. She's terrified of crickets, I know them as bait. I just hope she's driving the next time this kind of thing happens; deal or no deal, twice in a lifetime is too much.