(An important side note for my Dickson and Warren Co. readers: the cicadas in Nashville are 10 times worse than anything I've encountered in Burns or Morrison...they are awful in Nashville, and I have no idea why!)
My interactions with this year's cicadas up until yesterday had been fairly benign; I've dodged them on the sidewalk, removed their dead shells from under my windshield wipers, scurried quickly to my car to avoid contact, and pointed and shuttered at the gross little creatures from within the safety of my work windows. I hadn't really despised them, but hadn't had an extremely negative experience.....yet.
Yesterday afternoon was muggy and warm, I left work early for a doctor appointment and I noticed that the cicadas seemed extra aggressive, as if they'd suddenly sensed freedom after the earlier thunderstorm. My car was sweltering hot and stuffy, so as I'm pulling out of my parking space I rolled down my windows to get some fresh air....bad idea. In flies a nasty, red, loud, gross cicada. AAHHH!! I quickly pulled into another parking spot, opened my door, jumped out and attempted locate the bug and remove him. He was no where to be found, so I assumed that he must have flown out.
Thank goodness, I thought, it would be horrific to have him in the car when I'm on the interstate!
I continue my drive and within a mile or so of my destination I hear a faint rustling sound coming from under my seat. IT'S THE CICADA!!!!! Anxiety creeps in, but I'm already late for my appointment and have no time to deal with it.
My entire doctors visit is consumed with thoughts of the darn cicada still in my car, waiting on me to get back so it can viciously attack me, call all its cicada friends to join in the fight, and leave me for dead in the Baptist hospital parking garage. (My imagination regresses to it's childhood state when left unsupervised).
I return to my car, anxious and fearful, and begin searching for the insect. I take the Predators playoff-game program (sorry Jameson) that was left in the backseat and violently swipe it under my seat, hoping to kill it or encourage it to get the heck outta my car!! I never see the cicada, but I'm certain that my vigorous magazine movements have killed it.
I begin my drive home and as I merge onto I-40W I again hear the rustling sound of insect wings. My heart leaps into my throat and my palms begin to sweat. ITS STILL IN MY CAR! The rustling gets louder, and to me sounded more aggressive. (Again, my imagination).
Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh. Don't wreck, don't freak out, it's probably still under the seat. Maybe it will stay there! Stay calm!
I begin to slow my speed and think of ways to calm myself down so I can make it home safely. And then, I look down to my left and see the horrible bug sitting on the ledge of the side-door compartment, staring straight at me, it's wings ready and waiting to fly straight into my hair at any second.
OH MY GOSH!! AAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! I'm literally screaming at this point. OH MY GOSH! HELP!! My hands are clenching the steering wheel, my body sitting on the most extreme right side of the seat, my torso leaning towards the passenger side. As cars whiz by me, I realize that I am still on the interstate and in one of the most congested construction sites in Nashville. There are 3 lanes of traffic squeezed into an area only designed for two, and the side shoulders have been replaced with concrete barriers.
I have to pull over, I'm going to freak out if this things flies at me! AAAAAAHHHHHHH No where to pull over!!
I'm freaking out. It's little red beady eyes are staring me down. THEN..... it starts making its noise; the loudest chirping I've ever heard, screeching, piercing my ears, as if it was saying "I'm going to get you!"
Please dear Lord, don't let this thing attack me while I'm surrounded by so much concrete! Please dear Lord, if this things flies at my head, please don't let me lose control of the car.
(I literally just shuttered at my desk thinking about that thing....I may be having post-traumatic stress symptoms)
Somehow, I'm able to make it to the next exit. It was the worst mile and a half of my life.
I whip into a Krystals parking lot and throw open my door. Of course the cicada has no interest in flying away, its goal is to attack ME, so it continues to cling to the side of my door. I again find the magazine, jump out of the car, and begin to swing at it. It's a devilish little creature, and it refuses to leave. It falls back into the compartment and avoids my every attempt to kill it. With each magazine blow I jump back away from the cicada, fearful of it's retaliation. I'm sure my display was quite amusing. I continue to try to remove it, but IT JUST WON'T LEAVE.
In desperation, I turn around towards the Krystals and find a large group of employees plastered to the window, watching my entire cicada battle unfold.
Fabulous. I'm a freak show.
A plump, sweet-faced female employee opens the restaurant door and yells "Honey, are you scared??"
Well obviously, can't you see me freaking out??
"YESSSS!" I yell.
She smiles and then cackles...very loudly. "Do you want somebody to come help you??"
"Yes please!!"
So out comes this braced-face teenager, with his Krystals hat slightly sideways. He is smirking.
"It isn't going to bite or sting you, ya know?"
Well YOU haven't been riding around Nashville with this cicada in your car, YOU haven't had it stare you down while you try to drive 70mph, YOU haven't had to fear for your life while you fight it to the death!
"Yea I know it won't bite, but I still don't like it!!"
So my knight-in-shining-Krystals-uniform saved me from my cicada villain. Napkin in hand, he effortlessly removed him from my car, and then I think he squished it in his hand. (Why are boys so gross?)
While some might have been shamed at having a 15 year old pimple-faced kid save you from a bug, I was so grateful that I had to refrain myself from hugging him.
I told him he had done his good deed for the whole month, but he didn't seem too enthused. Oh well.
So, alas, I'm alive and well; I didn't get attacked by the cicada and it didn't cause me to run my car straight into a concrete wall. However, I think I was traumatized just the same.
Now I know why God made locusts one of the seven plagues!!!
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