Once upon a time, in a land covered in rain and clouds, I went to a zoo. I have always loved the bug area. The beetles are fascinating, the stick-bugs hilarious, and the butterflies are beautiful. But alas, they always put the spiders with the bugs. Newsflash: Spiders are not "bugs." At any rate, every time I go to a zoo, I have to entrust whomever I am accompanied by to guide me safely past the spiders.
At this time I had a boyfriend. We were exploring the bug area and I knew the spiders were coming up. I could feel it. The hairs on my neck started to stand up on end and I could feel too many eyes on me for my comfort. I closed my eyes, he walked me past them, and planted them in front of the stick bugs. I opened my eyes and was confronted with something terrible. There was a tarantula. It was reared up on it's hind legs, 2 front legs planted firmly on the glass, which was mere inches from my fact. It was trying to push the cage apart to get to me. It's eyes were rolling in it's head. It's fangs dripping with hunger. And then it did something I will never forget. It hissed. I still here the hiss in my nightmares- echoing throughout my subconscious as if my mind is a cavern with really great acoustics.
I screamed. And I don't just mean yelped. I. Freaking. Screamed. I screamed like I was being murdered or attacked. I felt mentally and emotionally affronted. I screamed so loud that the people near me scattered- assuming the worst: One of the bugs got out. Security came rushing up right about the time I started seeing spots as the color drained from my face and puddled on the concrete below my feet. I don't remember any more of that day. I have no idea when we left or if I got to see the giraffes before I went home to cry and sit in shock. The giraffes are my favorite. This is not okay.
That boyfriend? He didn't last long after that.
