This may appear to be a story about hiking, but really it’s a story about that one time I almost stepped on a rattlesnake in college. Everyone’s got one of those, right?
It started out a night like many others. Yoga pants. Homework. All of my roommates at their various functions, expect for one who was on the phone with her boyfriend down the hall. I realized at one point that I needed to get a few school books from my car, so I grabbed my keys and phone and headed through the front door.
And that’s when I heard it. A *buzzing* sound. I thought for a second that it was my cell phone, so in one split second I looked down to see who might be calling, to realize it wasn’t my phone at all — it was a green, scaly, coiling rattlesnake, and it was just below me. In one step, I had unfortunately walked over it, and mercifully avoided stepping on it.
Because I’m (so not) a natural at staying calm in disasters, I immediately bolted down the street and took refuge in my car, while my mind raced with what to do. One roommate was upstairs at the other end of the house, and after an anxious honk of the car horn to see if she could hear me, I realized she could not, and I would just have to hope she’d notice that I’d gone missing. My other roommates, Kara and Jessie, were out for the night, and it was too late for me to take refuge in any store (plus I wasn’t exactly in fine public-outing form, with no wallet, not to mention shoes). And with adrenaline surging through my veins, there was absolutely nothing that was going to convince me to walk down the snake-ridden path back inside, so I decided my sole option was to sit and wait.
Wait for what, I’m not sure. But after about a half hour, Kara’s car lights rounded the corner to our driveway. So I did the only logical thing one might do in such a situation; I rolled down my car window, and yelled her name. I saw her confused look as her eyes scanned up our house to my bedroom window, until she realized I was actually sitting captive in my car. Laughing, she came over to see how I’d lost my mind this time, when I burst into a blubbery mess of adrenaline-packed tears.
We walked in through the garage together as she listened to me describe the ordeal I’d just faced. When I’d sufficiently calmed down, she suggested we go to see if the snake was still there. As we approached the front door, that’s when we realized: in my fright, I’d fled instantly, leaving the front door wide open for any snakes desiring a warm climate indoors.
Suffice it to say that sleep was minimal for the next few nights, if not weeks.
So that, my friends, is my rattlesnake story. And why a hike named after them is fine by me, so long as it’s in the rattler-free climate of the Pacific Northwest.
P.S. That one time I almost passed out in hot yoga.
Plenty more where this came from…