Last week, somebody surrendered three tarantulas to a different pet store in our chain up in Asheville, NC. (Yes, THREE tarantulas. It baffles me enough that somebody would even want one.) The district manager decided to bless our store with the task of selling them, so we now have four in our store total, if you include the one we were already trying to sell. The three newbies have been chilling in the back room to await their turns on the sale floor. Today, I got up the courage to hold one.
It actually was not that bad, once I got over the initial moment of panic. Getting it on and off my hand was by far the worst part, but once I had it, it was pretty chill. Soon my coworker and I were passing it back and forth to take selfies. This reminded me of another terrifying adventure that turned out differently than I had expected.
Back in August, my roommates and I had mostly gotten settled into our new house and finished unpacking, and the new school year had just started. Our house has a ground floor and a basement, each with their own kitchen, bathrooms, and living room. I live in the basement with one other girl. The basement is only partially underground, and in the living room is a large, sliding glass door that leads out to the backyard.
One night, I woke up to a persistent knocking noise. It was quick but steady, like the beat of a metronome. I figured it was probably Anna getting ready for work (she worked on campus and had to be in the main building at UGA before the 8am classes started), but I glanced at my clock and noticed it was just before 5 in the morning. Way too early for Anna to be up. It was also too constant to be the natural sounds a person makes when cooking breakfast. I thought, could it be the washing machine? After all, the thing was bound to die soon, considering how much it shook whenever it cycled too fast. (It once shook so hard, it unplugged itself from the wall. It later died spectacularly, drowning the laundry room in several inches of water as one last hoorah.) But no, I reasoned, nobody was awake at this hour, and even if someone had started the washer before they went to bed, there was no way it could still be going. All of a sudden, my tired mind clicked into gear and the truth became horrifyingly clear:
somebody was knocking on the glass door.
My heart dropped into my stomach. I lay frozen in my bed, knowing that the only thing between me and a possible intruder was a thin wall of glass. During all of this, the steady knocking continued. As I frantically tried to think of a way to simultaneously call the police, alert the rest of my roommates to the situation, lock my bedroom door, and find my stun gun, I heard Anna's voice drift through the wall that divides our bedrooms.
"Holland?"
"Anna?"
"Do you hear that noise? Is that you?" (the knocking was still going at the same steady pace)
"No, it's not me. I think someone is knocking on the back door."
"Can you go see who it is?"
I would have laughed if I hadn't been so certain that we were about to die horrible, gristly deaths. In my mind, the best case scenario was that a drunk person had stumbled out of a party, gotten lost, and was now knocking on the door to the wrong house. Worst case scenario, a serial killer was trying to find out if anyone was home and was mere seconds away from smashing their way in.
"I'm not going out there," I said. Both of our bedroom doors are immediately across from the glass door. There is no way to open them even a tiny crack to peek out without being seen.
The knocking continued.
"Will you go with me to see who it is?" Anna asked.
Heck no. "Anna, I don't think that's a good idea."
No answer.
"Anna, I don't think that's-"
I heard her door swing open. The knocking stopped. My life flashed before my eyes as I accepted the fact that we were completely and irrevocably doomed, when I heard Anna exclaim, "Mom?"
It.
Was.
Her.
Mother.
Anna's phone had stopped working a few days prior. Her mother had grown worried that she was unable to get in touch with her daughter, so she decided to drive to our house to check on her. At 5 in the morning.
I laid in bed and listened for a few minutes to make sure that Anna was definitely safe, before deciding that there was no need for me to come waddling out of my room in my pajamas to awkwardly introduce myself. I rolled over and eventually fell back asleep, after my heart rate returned to a normal pace. We spent the whole next day trying to figure out if there was a feasible way to replace that door with bulletproof glass. (Amazon was no help whatsoever.) Anna claims that she never heard me tell her it was a bad idea to open her door and still jokes to this day that I abandoned her to die. All in all, what started off as a terrifying situation became a funny story to tell our friends, so no real harm done.
What about you? Have you ever had a potentially frightening situation turn out to be something completely harmless?
Back in August, my roommates and I had mostly gotten settled into our new house and finished unpacking, and the new school year had just started. Our house has a ground floor and a basement, each with their own kitchen, bathrooms, and living room. I live in the basement with one other girl. The basement is only partially underground, and in the living room is a large, sliding glass door that leads out to the backyard.
One night, I woke up to a persistent knocking noise. It was quick but steady, like the beat of a metronome. I figured it was probably Anna getting ready for work (she worked on campus and had to be in the main building at UGA before the 8am classes started), but I glanced at my clock and noticed it was just before 5 in the morning. Way too early for Anna to be up. It was also too constant to be the natural sounds a person makes when cooking breakfast. I thought, could it be the washing machine? After all, the thing was bound to die soon, considering how much it shook whenever it cycled too fast. (It once shook so hard, it unplugged itself from the wall. It later died spectacularly, drowning the laundry room in several inches of water as one last hoorah.) But no, I reasoned, nobody was awake at this hour, and even if someone had started the washer before they went to bed, there was no way it could still be going. All of a sudden, my tired mind clicked into gear and the truth became horrifyingly clear:
somebody was knocking on the glass door.
My heart dropped into my stomach. I lay frozen in my bed, knowing that the only thing between me and a possible intruder was a thin wall of glass. During all of this, the steady knocking continued. As I frantically tried to think of a way to simultaneously call the police, alert the rest of my roommates to the situation, lock my bedroom door, and find my stun gun, I heard Anna's voice drift through the wall that divides our bedrooms.
"Holland?"
"Anna?"
"Do you hear that noise? Is that you?" (the knocking was still going at the same steady pace)
"No, it's not me. I think someone is knocking on the back door."
"Can you go see who it is?"
I would have laughed if I hadn't been so certain that we were about to die horrible, gristly deaths. In my mind, the best case scenario was that a drunk person had stumbled out of a party, gotten lost, and was now knocking on the door to the wrong house. Worst case scenario, a serial killer was trying to find out if anyone was home and was mere seconds away from smashing their way in.
"I'm not going out there," I said. Both of our bedroom doors are immediately across from the glass door. There is no way to open them even a tiny crack to peek out without being seen.
The knocking continued.
"Will you go with me to see who it is?" Anna asked.
Heck no. "Anna, I don't think that's a good idea."
No answer.
"Anna, I don't think that's-"
I heard her door swing open. The knocking stopped. My life flashed before my eyes as I accepted the fact that we were completely and irrevocably doomed, when I heard Anna exclaim, "Mom?"
It.
Was.
Her.
Mother.
Anna's phone had stopped working a few days prior. Her mother had grown worried that she was unable to get in touch with her daughter, so she decided to drive to our house to check on her. At 5 in the morning.
I laid in bed and listened for a few minutes to make sure that Anna was definitely safe, before deciding that there was no need for me to come waddling out of my room in my pajamas to awkwardly introduce myself. I rolled over and eventually fell back asleep, after my heart rate returned to a normal pace. We spent the whole next day trying to figure out if there was a feasible way to replace that door with bulletproof glass. (Amazon was no help whatsoever.) Anna claims that she never heard me tell her it was a bad idea to open her door and still jokes to this day that I abandoned her to die. All in all, what started off as a terrifying situation became a funny story to tell our friends, so no real harm done.
What about you? Have you ever had a potentially frightening situation turn out to be something completely harmless?