A few weeks ago, our camper neighbors had their bug man come out and spray for creepy-crawlies. Of course, they offered to send him on down to our camper for a small, nominal fee, but being the cheapskate I am, I declined in favor of having our regular bug man spray for us. I figured maybe we could get a multiple structure discount or something like that. Warning: This was NOT a good idea. When everyone around you sprays their campers for bugs, you must have your camper sprayed, too. At the exact same time. Guess where everything that gets shooed away from the treated campers goes? Based on my experience this past weekend, I can now answer that. Every single creature will come to the nearest untreated camper, which will be your camper if you do what I did and decline pest control services to save yourself a few bucks.
I didn't think about that Friday evening when we arrived at our home away from home. Sure, I noticed a few spider webs in our shelves, but I thought they were probably just created by those teeny tiny little house spiders that crop up from time to time. We had three whole glorious nights to camp, hang out with the greatest people in the world, eat, swim, rest, and relax. I was STOKED. We were all worn out by the time we got there, unpacked, and visited for a few minutes, so we went straight to bed and the night passed without incident.
Saturday was spent swimming, playing, and chit-chatting. Husband and Progeny went to bed and I stayed up to hang out with the neighbors. Normally, our sleeping arrangements at the camper are like this: Hubs and Progeny take the bed and I sleep in the living room area, either on the couch or on an air mattress that I put in the middle of the floor. When I got back down to our camper to go nighty-night, I snuck into the bedroom area to get my jammies (in the dark, I might add), and retreated to the living area to take out my contacts and change clothes. I couldn't find my contact case so I had to turn on the light in order to search for it in the abyss-also-known-as-my-purse. And that's when I saw this. In the middle of the floor. No more than 10 feet from where I was planning on sleeping.
Zoe, being the curious (read: nosey) dog that she is, decided she would investigate matters for me. She trotted over to the tarantula (it WAS a tarantula, y'all, just not the kind with hair) and decided to sniff it that way she could lead the police to its den after Adam found my lifeless corpse in the floor and called 911. Every time she would get close, the spider would buck up on its hind legs and run around in circles. Kind of like it was popping a wheelie. This lasted for a good 5 minutes - or maybe 15 seconds - before I hurdled to the sink and got a bowl to trap the beast with.
I then patted myself on my back for my quick thinking and for not screaming like a little girl. I also threw a couple of canned goods (Bush's baked beans and Del Monte corn, to be precise) on top of the bowl, just in case the spider were to go all The Bride on me and Kung Fu kick the bowl in an attempt to free itself and attack my face. I contemplated whether or not I would be safe to go to bed. I decided that wasn't an option, so I woke Adam up. Here's how the conversation went:
Me: Smith, Smith, SMITH!!!! Wake up! There's a situation I need you to handle down here.
Adam: What? What is it?
Me: There's a man-eating spider trapped in the kitchen and I need you to come kill it, pretty please, you handsome, strong, fearless, man you.
Adam: Well, since you asked so nicely.... (gets out of bed and comes into the kitchen).
*He then looked at my makeshift spider Alcatraz, but couldn't see the spider. It was hidden under the Bush's beans.*
Adam: I don't believe you.
Me: I swear! I took a picture before I woke you up!
Adam: Let me see. (Looking at the picture) HOLEY MOLEY! (Grabs a shoe, then freezes) I've never killed a spider this big.
Me: I just pray it doesn't have babies on its back or inside its belly. I don't think I can do this whole camping thing anymore. I'm ready to never camp again. We should sell the camper. Better yet, we should burn it to the ground.
Adam: (Kicks bowl over and drops a Nike anvil on the spider). Okay. It's dead.
Me: Are you sure? Did you hear and feel it crunch? You should hit it again just in case.
Adam: (Hits spider again) I'm sure.
I heard the spider crunch that time and was convinced it was dead, so I handed Adam a paper towel and he disposed of the spider.
The next morning, Adam woke me up to tell me that everyone in the entire campground (or at least 5 of our neighbors) were on their way down to work out on our porch and I should at least get up and put a bra on, just in case one of them decided to say hello or needed a bottle of water. I obeyed his instructions, because he literally saved my life from an entire nest of gigantic camel spiders the night before. I walked outside to grant the mob of fitness-crazed people.
Neighbor: Mornin'. I hear you woke Adam up to kill a spider about this big (holds up fingers in the a-ok symbol, about the size of a quarter).
Me: It was NOT a small spider like that. It was a giant spider. As big as my face. And now I have a rash. I think I have Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. Or malaria. Or flesh-eating bacteria. And I'm sure Adam didn't bother to tell you that he broke out in hives and began to sweat when he saw the spider, which was the size of half of our kitchen floor!
I slept with the TV on the next night. I hoped that would confuse the spider's companions into staying in their lairs. I got three hours' sleep. Tops. And I killed 3 more (tiny) spiders. And I vowed not to go back to the camper without sticky pads and some heavy duty spider repellant.
