The Bug Story

So here it is, finally. It probably won't translate as well on screen as it does in the verbal retelling.

This past week I was in DC for a work conference. I was there with my supervisor, Emily, and my coworker, Andrea. It was great. Fancy, nice hotel, and lots of per diem for food. We learned a lot, slept well, and ate very well. Anyway.

The last night of the conference, my roommate, Andrea and I decided to watch a chick flick and order room service. So we donned our jammies, called up some sweet gooey chocolatey cake, and popped "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2" into the DVD player. (Hey, I didn't say we were going for quality cinema.)

After a sappy, teary, romantic two hours of teen drama, and too much dessert, it was time to call our husbands and go to bed. I grabbed my cell and was on the way out the door when I heard Andrea say nonchalantly, "Hi Scott... Oooh. Big bug on the wall."

Big bug? My radar went up. I had a feeling this was going to be nothing good. In fact, I was pretty sure that when I turned around, it was going to be a worst case scenario. I considered leaving the room, but my disgust got the better of me. I turned around, hoping to see a centipede or some other innocuous creepy-crawlie on the wall. But oh, no.

"Bug?" I cried. "BUG? Andrea, that's no bug. That's a COCKROACH!" And it was. 2 inches long. With wings. Moseying up the wall, out from under the door adjoining the next hotel room. I leapt onto the bed.

(Sidenote: I feel I must explain my reaction. I am plagued by cockroaches. I am almost convinced that the Lord sends them after me so I have a chance to battle my phobia of the disgusting things. It was while I was living in Spain that I realized I had the phobia in the first place - the cockroaches there are even bigger than Mr. Friendly. They come out at night. And they hiss. I hardly slept the entire three months I was there, always vigilant when the lights went out.)

Andrea looked over at me, a little slow to register my reaction. "Should I do something?" she asked, pink cell phone still at her ear.

"Yes!" I cried. "I do not like cockroaches! I reeeeally do not like cockroaches! And if we try to kill it, we will miss!"

"Honey, I'll call you back," Andrea told her husband sweetly, and hung up. I decided to put my socks back on. (Feet protection, people. If that thing disappeared, and I was unfortunate enough to step on it later, I at least wanted a layer of sock between it and my foot.)

Braver than I, she walked over to the phone (very close to the roach) and dialed down to the front desk. "Hello? Yes. We're in room 411, and there's a large cockroach on the wall, and well... my roommate is freaking out... and so I was just wondering if you could send someone to kill it?" The front desk agreed to send someone up immediately. Which meant we had to keep our eye on him until they arrived.

Well, Mr. Friendly began to move. And then Andrea wasn't quite the cool cucumber anymore. Taking his fine time, he sauntered across the floor, over towards her bed, up onto the wall, across her headboard, and over two of the pillows on her bed. And then he disappeared.

Panic set in for both of us. "Oh, that's not right!" she shouted, cringing. "What do we do? Should we go sleep in Emily's room tonight?"

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. "Hotel Security!" boomed a deep voice.

"Security?" I opened the door. There stood a stocky, dark haired guy dressed like a cop, holding, of all things, a camera. I looked at the man incredulously. "They sent Security?"

"Maintenance is on his way up. I'm here to photograph the roach. Then we'll have to treat the room. Where is it?"

"Over there," Andrea pointed. "Behind the big pillow." Just then, he crawled back out into the light. Mr. Security strode towards the bed, not yet seeing our friend. Suddenly he jumped back.

"Holy crap that thing is big!" he shouted. Quickly he snapped a picture. We heard another rap on the door.

"Maintenance!" called another deep voice.

"Come in!" we shouted. Another man entered the room. He was elderly, wrinkled, gray. He had a thin plastic cup in his hand - like the kind you get out of the dispenser next to the water cooler. The three of us cowered in the corner, as far away from the cockroach as we could get. We pointed.

Maintenance walked over there and in one swift move clapped the fragile cup over the big bug. Mr. Friendly didn't like that so much, and started flapping around inside. But Mr. Maintenance was not to be intimidated. He scooped our visitor off the wall and crushed him inside the cup.

"Thank you!" Andrea and I gushed. Mr. Security offered to move us to a new room, but it was near midnight, so we declined (I rather begrudgingly). And so, they left. That night, I slept with my socks on. And made Andrea agree to sleep with the bathroom light on.

The next day, we found a handwritten apology slid under our door. Inside it was a coupon for a free breakfast for two at the hotel restaurant.

I'm glad to be home.