I'm not always a patient driver. When I'm in a hurry, which is most of the time, I think everyone else should be too - or at least let me have the road. From time to time I'm not in a rush. Then I get all freaked out when somebody who is starts pushing me up the road. I'm a hypocrite that way. I get antsy at traffic lights. When I'm sitting still and others aren't I start coveting. Seriously, sometimes I wonder if I'm not right on the edge of sinning with it. I want that other guy's green light. Then the worst situation, when I'm the only car at the intersection and my light is perpetually red. Grrrr...
So, yesterday morning I'm sitting at the traffic light just kinda zoned out, kinda noticing the stuff around me, but not really. I look up to count down with the cross walk sign and notice a spider. It's itsy, tiny body is supported by very thin but long, long legs. It looks really weird, even for a spider. I'm figuring it ended up on my car from one of the trees or bushes where I parked. Regardless, unless it finds a safe place in a car cranny and soon, it's seen its last days at or near the Bishop house.
When my signal said go I wondered what the little guy would do. (Sorry so sexist.) Actually, I figured more than I wondered. I figured he'd blow away. He didn't. I don't know what he latched onto in that glass, but as soon as the wind hit that little arachnid he dug in and held on. His eight legs turned into one. I figured at some point, when the wind got too much he'd have to give up and join the breeze. Not so. Three, maybe four traffic lights later he was still there. I was starting to cheer him on. I wondered if there was a spider Olympics somewhere where I could sign him up. This little bug was good.
I had this whole thinking like a spider thing going on in my head. I don't know, but I might have even started voicing it out loud - putting words in his little mouth, thoughts in its little brain. "What the...!" "Where is this thing taking me?!" "Where is my tree?" "What have I done?!" "Dude! Slow down!" "We're stopping, thank God!" "Here we goooblblblblbl" Not knowing what language spiders usually speak, mine was talking good old American English, but with a slight exotic yet mid-western accent. Think Nebraskan moved to Puerto Rico and trying really hard to fit in. Besides, according to my religious upbringing, the whole world is western, Jesus was white, and the Middle Eastern ancients spoke like yet to be born 17th century English kings. (Another blog, maybe.) So I felt I could take a little licence.
Even though we'd just gotten acquainted, me and my spider started bonding. I couldn't control the signals (oh, but if I could...) and the horns, stares and fingers forced me to go with the flow of traffic. But I was becoming a fan. The little bugger needed a break from time to time, so I started hoping for red lights. Then it occurred to me about all of the other spiders on all of the other cars. I know how strong my spider is. He's proven that he can hang on at least up to 35 mph. I don't know about the other guy's spider.
It occurred to me that when my light is red and my spider is resting, the spiders on the cars with the green lights aren't. Just like my little guy, they're holding on with everything in them. Not every spider gets to relax, not all at once. Not all the cars are sitting still, and there's no relaxing when the car is moving.
How narrow and self-indulgent of me to think that my spider was the only spider. How arrogant to think that me and my spider deserved something that other people and their spiders didn't. How weird of me to talk like a spider.
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