Without any caffeine yet at 7:45am to transform my decayed form into Mark-Ra the ever-living, I usually find myself drifting into slumberland on my morning train into Manhattan. Throw on some lounge jazz on the iPod and adios muchacos, I’m a Z producing factory. Of course, so often the train exists as an antithesis of a good nap, and many a factor can keep me from that seemingly vital 25 minute burst of unconsciousness. This morning, that factor was a spider.
Had it been a spider on the train seat or floor, then it could have kissed its web spinning ass goodbye. Unless I was feeling a wee bit humanitarian and then I might have just given it a swift sweep kick to the other side of the car. But no. This spider decided to be sitting at the top of a woman’s ponytail sitting directly in front of me. Somehow, the little bugger must have taken a bad leap from a tree, and now it’s stuck here. This is like Arachnophobia, when the country spider makes an accidental trip to the city. Hooray for coincidence. Now, back to me being paranoid.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. It was bright green, about 3/4″ with legs, and was light enough that it could crawl all over her ponytail without being noticed yet big enough that I could not just squash it between my fingers with a speedy Karate Kid chopstick pinch. I was confounded what to do.
I wanted to say, “Hey Lady, you got a spider in your hair,” and be done with it. But then, what if she was a serious spiderphobe and went ballistic? Next. So I entertained the light shoulder tap from behind, with the warning of “Stay verrrry verrrry still,” while I tried to get the spider. But this is New York, she might think I have a weapon and mace me. Next. So I thought of just flicking it. But what if it lands on someone else? Aargh.
Then comes the apathy bug. I thought, why should I care? I don’t know this lady. I’m not her guardian angel. I have nothing against spiders, but if I close my eyes, it could be one of those jumping spiders that leaps onto me next. And that would suck. Nothing worse than waking up to a spider crawling on your ear. Bet that made you just itch your ear, eh?
Alas, this is not like those moments when a stranger has a huge booger hanging from their nose, and you do a quick nod, raise your brows in worry and motion to wipe their nose. No, this is way beyond my sleepless capacity for rational thought. This was one of those moments when you look around at a dozen people right around you, and of course, everyone was either sleeping or reading the Times or Wall Street Journal. Damn it, this was my burden it seemed.
So I decide to settle on the pinch route without any warning. Just reach in and squash it. But wait, what if it really is poisonous and bites me before dying? Nah, dude, you’re in New York, not Nicaragua. Wait, it could have tagged along on a freighter, or maybe this bright green spider is a by-product of some toxic spillage deep in the sphincter of Westchester County. (Which, by the way, if Peter Parker really did get bitten by a radioactive spider, he would have broken out in hives, swelled up and died. So I’m not expecting super powers here.)
Just as I wait for a moment to go for it, the spider starts crawling towards her forehead. Oh shit, do I say something? Why won’t it just jump off? I look around. Still no one sees it but me. This is like the Twilight Zone episode where Will Shatner sees the gremlin on the plane wing. I hear the conductor at the end of the car checking tickets. By the time he gets here, he’ll see it on her and shoo the bug off before it gets to her face.
Suddenly, the spider starts coming back. It makes its way down the whole ponytail and is nearly onto the edge of the vinyl seat, which makes it open game. I take out my weapon of choice. Fly swatter? Machete? 12 gauge auto loader with laser sighting? No, no, no. My train pass, and I reckon I can get it to crawl on my pass, then drop it to the floor, and say hello Mr. Rockport Size 10 sole.
The bug touches vinyl and I make my move. I move the pass in, and it jumps back on the pony tail! Shit! I quickly swipe at the tuft of hair the arachnid stands upon, and knock it to the vinyl. A second swipe knocks it to the floor. It jumps once upon landing, but right into the path of the oncoming stomp of the casual dress shoe.
I got it! Ha ha ha! Got it! Victory is mine! (Please note: Celebration dramatized for literary value.) Again, even in all five seconds of this action, no one was watching to take in my glory. Not even the woman noticed that I had done anything. Was it real? Was all this a sleep deprived delusion? I checked the bottom my shoe. Yup. Green smush. Very appetizing.
Nevertheless, I finally get to sleep. Except now, I seem to have this strange itchy feeling. Most ironic, eh?