When I put on my long navy and white striped Lily Pulitzer maxi skirt last June, I left my Santa Monica hotel feeling fun and flirty. Little did I know that when I would remove it later, I would be feeling as defeated and violated as a wannabe Hollywood actress after a long day on casting couches.
I was meeting my friend, Toonie, and her boyfriend, Jeff, with my baby, Daisy, for dinner. We chose a fun restaurant called Stout because not only does this place only offer amazing burger combinations fit for stoners and breastfeeding moms, we scored outdoor seating. With a stroller.
I was in heaven eating a burger with Brie and fig paste (foodgasm times a thousand) when Daisy made her first peep. I quickly picked her up and rocked her back to sleep in my arms. Her little human weight felt so nice against my body. She was the perfect amount of heat on that early summer’s night.
As Toonie talked in detail about a new work project, I felt something on my right leg. Maybe it was my skirt. I did a light leg shake. Nope. The mystery weight was still making moves. I tried to hold eye contact with Toonie, but the thought of this unidentified creature on my leg started making my pulse sky rocket. Immediately I pictured the worst possible thing: a roach. I AM TERRIFIED OF ROACHES. (Seriously, this is my third essay on them.)
Trying not to freak out, I thought maybe it was my skirt tag. When the creature moved higher than my tag could, I grabbed for my thigh and felt its body. What I did next could not be helped.
I threw my baby.
Like straight up screamed for Toonie and tossed my bundle of joy without really checking if Toonie’s arms were open and ready. I then slapped the shit out of myself and ripped my skirt up in an effort to rescue myself from the roach raping happening south of my hips.
Frantic, I couldn’t find the roach. We all looked. And looked. But then I remembered my child who was now crying in Toonie’s arms. When I got her back, Toonie was half laughing/ half truly concerned, “You really over reacted. I mean- you threw your baby.” And then Jeff chimed in, “Yeah. And are you sure it was even real.”
To be honest – I hate roaches SO much that I didn’t want it to be real. I wanted the sweet fact that I may be losing my mind to be the truth. Anything than an actual roach on my body.
But then we saw it. Climbing up the wall like it was Spidey. Its back muscles were huge as each leg gripped to the jagged brick to hoist its (clearly sterroided) body up to the top of the building to seek out its next prey.
We all shuttered. I begged someone to kill it but the SoCal locals pleaded with us to let it go. There was a full minute of relief as it climbed higher and higher.
We went back to eating and my blood pressure came back down.
As I took a sip of my drink, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Then I heard a THUD on Toonie’s back. And then we heard Toonie.
AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!! The roach had crash landed on her back.
She screamed BLOODY MURDER before sprinting through the restaurant to the bathroom. It was back. “It” being the most aggressive roach in the continental United States. Now the other patrons were jumping up and looking for it. However, because of our reactions they thought they were looking for a rat. I didn’t correct them.
Toonie came back sobbing and hyperventilating and could barely be consoled. When she was finally able to breathe she looked at me and said, “So you throwing your baby was actually a pretty mild response.”
Considering that this roach came back for seconds, I am going to agree that I handled that situation well. I mean, I was just trying to save Daisy (and myself) from the Santa Roachica.
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(Image via Trip Advisor)