Chapter four "Oh My God, There's a Tarantula in my Room" (What I did on my summer vacation)

When I left you last, I has just informed you of the unfortunate spider-in-the-toilet-seat incident in downtown Cairns. Twenty-four hours later, I got to see the real thing.

On our third day in Cairns, we spend the first half of the day wandering around the countryside, taking in the beauty of northern Australia. We shopped for tacky tourist gifts, chatted up the locals and ate some native foods. After a while, we decide to head back to our bed and breakfast to catch a quick nap, so we head back to where we're staying, the Reef and Rainforest Bed and Breakfast. The bed and breakfast is beautiful. It's located in the rainforest in Cairns, and the inn owners are two of the nicest people you'll ever want to meet. I had asked our host when she picked us up at the airport about the spider situation here, based on some information I had received from one of my constituents while attending my conference in Adelaide earlier in the week.

(Flashback)This constituent had told me that the Huntsman spider was the Australian equivalent of the Tarantula, and they were pretty much everywhere in Oz. Upon seeing my horror, he proceeded to elaborate on all of the horrible things about this arachnid. First, they get to be big. Second, they like to hide places, like under chairs, behind curtains, behind doors, even underneath the mattress. Sometimes, he said, they climb out from behind the mattress and up over the bed. Needless to say, my final nights at the Hyatt in Adelaide were restless ones. I kept visualizing this enormous spider (the size of a grown man's hand) crawling out from behind the mattress and on to my pillow.

Anyway, having been thoroughly scared by a bunch of natives who were having entirely too much fun playing on my arachnophobia, we arrive in Cairns and the first question I ask the inn owner, before we even get our luggage, is what my odds are for seeing this monster while vising. She assures me that the odds are very small, provided that I stay out of the rainforest and don't take nature hikes. I sleep like a baby for the first two nights there, content in knowing that my days will be spider-free.

This brings us back to the third day, and we arrive back at the bed and breakfast for a catnap before heading off to dinner later in the evening. I drop my shopping on my luggage and see something small scurry off to the side. I immediately freak out, knowing it's a spider, and proceed to take everything out of my luggage and shake it out. In my earlier comfort, I had left my luggage on the floor and unzipped, and I didn't want to bring any livestock home with me. I finish shaking out my stuff, finally find the small spider on the side of my luggage, smoosh it, and then repack everything. I decide to zip up the luggage to prevent this from happening again. This entire time, E's watching from the bed, smirking at my neurosis. We nap and head to dinner.

Later that evening, we come back and prepare for our trip to the reef the next morning. I grab my luggage and drag it across the floor. This sound obviously disturbs our other occupant, who comes out of his hiding place behind our sofa. I cannot tell you how large this spider was, largely because I caught only a glance before flying across the room and landing on the bed. A small screech has come out of my mouth, but otherwise, I'm silent and shaking. E takes one look at me and immediately knows the problem. He asks where. All I can do is point. He walks across the room, takes a look at the spider, then crosses back to the sink, picks up his toothbrush and proceeds to start brushing his teeth. I believe I said something like "Is this how you're gonna solve this problem?" He responds, "I haven't decided yet; I'm a bit freaked out now".

Now to put this into perspective for everyone, I've provided what I've been told is a very accurate link to the Huntsman spider in Australia. I have never seen what's on this page, nor do I plan to. What I do know is that there are something like 27 different types, and the one that's sitting on the toilet paper roll is the one that was on our wall. Enjoy. (Ru, you do NOT want to open this link-nor does anyone with any arachnophobia. Consider yourself warned.)

Ok, back to the room. So E decides that spider murder is necessary and picks up one of my shoes to deliver the final blow. I asked him if he thought it would be large enough to finish him off. I told him he had one chance to get this guy, because if he just maimed him, I was gonna walk home-to Chicago. He responded that he didn't think so and proceeded to pick up his own shoe to do the dirty work. I did not see the actual murder, but I did hear the horrible whack. I was later told it was a bit like killing a mouse with a shoe.

Immediately thereafter, a complete spider check commenced throughout the room. This time it was E who shook out his suitcase full of clothes to make sure there was no livestock inside, and much later in the evening, we settled down to sleep (or in my case, attempt to sleep).

The next afternoon, upon return from the reef trip, tired and windblown, I reach for the doorknob to our suite to head inside and take a shower (the rooms were outside entry). About halfway there, I notice that the bastard cousin of the murdered spider had come to avenge his death. He was sitting next to the doorknob. Of course, this one met the same fate as the other.

We left the next day. I was never so glad to get on a plane in my life. I was certain there would be no spiders at the Marriott in Sydney (there weren't). Upon wheels up on the plane, E turned to me and said, "Now that we're on our way out of there, I can say that those were the biggest spiders I've ever seen in my life outside of a zoo. That was disturbing."