I almost STEPPED ON IT.
2004-04-24
7:37 p.m.

I have never more in my life wanted to move to a massive high rise in the middle of a hyperpopulated city because I am figuring that it is unlikely that a snake can navigate all of that to get to me.

I don't know why I thought it was a good idea for me to hike all over creation in the middle of the desert when I am more scared of snakes than any other thing in this world. Almost since I moved to this place, we've hiked on days off. And at first I was scared and sometimes I would hike with my fists clenched when the trail was narrow and I couldn't see right in front of me but I got over it, and almost everyone said that almost no one sees rattlesnakes and not to worry about it they're super rare and they're scared of you and they keep away from the trails don't sweat it.

FUCK.

Anyway. SNAKE. S-NAKE. We were hiking and tra-la-la and I ALMOST STEPPED ON IT and it buzzed and I could swear that I ran but my husband says I froze and he had to yell at me to get me to run away.

So I ran and I stood on a rock and every movement in the bush made me nearly crap myself and my legs were shaking and my heart was pumping and I was crying, muttering and screaming, all at once. My husband was back a ways (I was hiking in front, he hadn't gotten to the spot where the snake was yet), trying to talk me into walking back to him so we could go back to the car. I couldn't get myself to move or calm down, so I waited a few minutes and made him tell me over and over again how he'd seen it move away.

He finally talked me into meeting him in the middle, so I did, and he was holding my shoulders and trying to calm me down when I looked down and OH MY GOD THERE IT WAS. It was RIGHT THERE, at our feet. FEET. I only saw the tail and the body and I screamed, "It's right there!" and we both just took off running. OH MY GOD VENOM. PAIN. LONG TRAIL BACK TO ER.

I got to the middle of a dry creek bed and scrambled up a rock and freaked out so badly that my husband had to actually Very Loud Talk in my face to bring me back to myself and get me to start going back toward the car. The whole way back, I insisted that we talk loudly to scare other snakes away, but we couldn't keep any coversation going, and when my husband would say things like, "There is a root that looks like a snake up ahead," I would hear, "Snake up ahead."

The trail was really overgrown (I guess spring does that here) and everything was hidden and shaking and branches were touching me and OH MY GOD I was freaking out. The whole way back I was holding my shirt front bunched up in my fist, chattering to myself about Molly and how small she is, and chewing on my sunglasses until my gums hurt. I also said, "Jesus!" a lot, shreaked a little every time anything moved or touched me (including, say, bugs) and whimpered when the trail got tight (which was a lot.) Poor husband.

Anyway. We made it back to the parking lot. On the way, we saw another couple headed in, and I said, "There is a really big rattlesnake just off the trail back there." They said, "Cool!" and kept hiking. Clearly they are insane.

Once back in the parking lot, I was still shaking. I called my sister from the car, and mid-coversation my water bottle touched my leg and I was like OH MY GOD WHAT IF IT'S IN THE CAR? Ha. I am insane. I fear the snakes like no other.

Anyway. Snakes. Gah. We googled avoiding rattlesnakes when we got home, and every site says that few people even see rattlesnakes. Why do I have to be one of the ones who did? GAAAAH. Snake bad. BAD.

So, my hiking career is over. Treadmill it is. Safe, safe treadmill. Oh, your safeness is so safe and nice and soothing.

I have to go shower and scratch myself raw and then possibly have nightmares and not leave the house for a week.