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Last Updated: Oct 9, 2008 - 9:55:47 PM |
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I’m not usually the type of person to rehash stories over and over again ---though I’m sure some of my friends will happily tell you otherwise--- but a friend sent me the most horrifying news story last week and I can’t help but discuss it.
What I didn’t know until I looked it up again about five minutes ago was this incident actually happened in Cedar Rapids. I’m not sure how I missed that part the first time, except that I was probably gagging and choking so much as I was reading that I failed to notice. I would have preferred, actually, it had happened somewhere else, like maybe Ohio or Idaho (since poorly educated city folk always get us confused with them anyway) because that would have given some distance to the horror and I could have pretended that it couldn’t happen to me.
And let me tell you, it will now NEVER happen to me, because I will never, EVER again pre-set my coffee maker’s timer, no matter how much I like waking up to the smell of fresh Starbucks. Yes, maybe you’ve guessed it by now---it’s the bat story.
For those of you who may have missed it, some poor woman prepared her coffee the night before, set the timer and woke up and drank the brew. I can’t imagine that the coffee would have even tasted right, but I’m very choosy about my morning sugar and caffeine buzz. It has to be brewed just right---definitely not weak, but a happy medium between water and bitter. (Maybe, realistically it is closer to bitter. The east coast’s predilection for making even convenience store coffee strong kind of turned me into an addict.) I’d like to think I would have noticed if my coffee tasted like mammal. Rodent? Pest?
Anyway, she drank the coffee (seriously, didn’t it taste bad?) and then that night, preparing for the next day’s coffee, I assume, discovered a dead bat in the filter. I’m pretty sure this is the point in the story where I screamed. (It wasn’t a piercing scream, but more of a gurgley, gagging, loud moan.) I’d like to know what she did at this point. None of the articles had any more information about her reaction when she found it, or how she felt about knowing she’d inadvertently drank bat juice, or if she ran out of the house screaming. I would have. Then I would have called everyone I know and ask them what in the heck I was supposed to do (while screaming hysterically).
The final disgusting moment of this story ends with the bat’s head being so boiled by the hot water that the people who check for rabies were unable to determine whether the woman was contaminated or not, so she had to have rabies treatment anyway. A horrible story, especially for someone with a bat phobia, but even I can appreciate its timing as a brilliant introduction to the Halloween season.
As a kid I loved Halloween. I began the season by making little, ghostly, graveyard scenes out of construction paper and planning (and wearing) my costume weeks before it was warranted. Somewhere along the path to adulthood I began to hate the whole costume idea. The dread would begin with the first party invitation, and wouldn’t end until I showed up costume-free after many anxiety–filled evenings, and realized everyone was already too intoxicated to even notice or care what I was wearing.
“Great costume, Susie, what are you?”
“Um, my evil twin.”
“Cool!”
The best part of Halloween, of course, was the trick-or-treating. My friends and I would gather together and the first house we would hit was the Scott’s, across the street. They went all out every year, with the goal of scaring the crap out of all who dared to tromp up their steps. It was great. Then we’d walk all over town, keeping an eye out for the big kids who we feared would steal our candy if we bumped into them. (They never did.) There were no parents driving us from house to house, so by the end of the night we’d walked enough miles to burn off the candy we would devour along the way.
Nobody ever gave us the dreaded “razor-blade in the apple.” I have a feeling this has been one of the greatest urban legends (next to the “mugger in the mall/flat tire” myth or the “stealing kidneys from businessmen” myth) perpetuated by human-kind. The worst thing we had to deal with was the horror of having to wear our coats over our costumes. We had fun, we got exercise, and we were exhausted.
These days, I have to confess, I generally leave the house on Halloween night and go shopping. Now that my friend’s son is a teenager, no one comes to my scary-looking building to beg for treats and I end up eating a bag of candy---without the miles of walking to burn it off.
I still love this time of year, though—the beautiful colors, the crisp air, the smell of burning leaves (asthma attacks), and memories of frozen fingers and instruments at football games.
I think I need to go buy some pumpkins and gourds.
© Copyright 2008 by The East Iowa Herald
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Skies: SunnyTemperature: 20F -7CDewpoint: 6F -14CRelative Humidity: 55%Wind: NW at 21m - 34kBarometric Pressure: 30.46RUpdated: 04:05:31 PM
