I Came Back Too Soon

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

It was the middle of the night. We were staying at a hotel in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. I had gotten up to use the bathroom, but instead beat a hasty retreat back to bed.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“You came back too quickly.”

I didn’t want to scare her, but thought it best to ‘fess up.  “Well, I saw a spider in the bathroom.  Actually, a very large spider.  A giant spider. A tarantula, I think.  It disappeared into a large crack in the floor next to the toilet.”

We decided to leave the lights on.

After a few minutes, sure enough, the tarantula emerged from its crack, entered our bedroom, and began to climb up the wall opposite our bed.  We both froze in panic. It climbed across the ceiling and came to a stop directly above our bed.  Clearly, it was planning to drop down and kill us.

I was so scared I couldn’t think of what to do or even what I should ask her to do (assuming she wasn’t as terrified of spiders as I was).  We did nothing but watch and wait.

Eventually, the tarantula slowly retraced its path and exited our bedroom.  Maybe it returned to its hiding spot in the crack next to the toilet.  We stayed in bed with the lights on and remained awake the rest of the night.

In the morning my parents arrived in their VW Van to pick us up.

“Please take us to Mexico City,” I said.  “I want to go home.  Now.”

“But you have reservations at beautiful hotels for the next four nights,” my mom said.

I didn’t care. “Mom.  Mexico City.  Please. Now.” I told her about our night of terror.  My mom was already familiar with my arachnophobia.

At seven thirty that evening I gratefully fell into my bed in Los Angeles.

“I’m never going back to Mexico again,” I vowed.

It’s now been more than 45 years, and I haven’t.  I have seen a few rather impressive bugs in Hawaii, but . . . well . . . they weren’t tarantulas.

This is a true story.

Have a Happy Halloween.

Alan