Creepy Commute

I was at my friend's house tonight, going out to my car, when I saw a fairly large beetle perched on his wall.  "I haven't seen a bug that big since I was a kid," I said, somehow forgetting the cockroaches I encountered (and occasionally managed to stomp) in Southern California.  In my childhood, there would sometimes be big beetles or even bigger moths, but I doubted my nephews had ever encountered such a thing, having lived away from the wilderness their whole lives.

So I decided--foolishly, it turned out--to scoop the big insect up in a Walgreen's bag, and take it with me.  No big deal, right?

Well, imagine you are driving down the hill at night, making sure not to hit any deer (only saw two on the side of the road this time), when suddenly, something large starts to crawl up your leg from the dark.  Imagine further, you're wearing shorts.

Guess it got out of the shopping bag.

Just like you see in the movies, my car swerved into the opposing lane, as I recoiled from the sensation, shouting the name of a well-known deity, and then regaining control of the vehicle enough to pull it off to the side of the road so I could either recapture or get rid of the scrabbling creature.

My hand, not a child's.

Oddly, the worst part was then, once the car was stopped, as I fumbled on the roof of the car for the lightswitch . . . as the beetle began to crawl across the top of my foot.

I cringed and tried to shake it off, then got out of the car so I could be a little more physically unrestrained, almost wishing a cop would pull up so I could show him how good a reason I had to be driving like Mel Gibson on Yom Kippur.  But none happened by.

After I found the escapee and made certain I wouldn't be sitting or stepping on it, I got back in the car and kept on driving.  I did nearly pull the car over a second time, though, when the idea came into my head of what would have happened had the insect continued crawling up my leg and into my shorts.

Things can always be worse, boys and girls.