Tropical Paradise Part 2

Picking up where we left off at the end of Part 1

Settling in is always a pleasure. Being in a new home, albeit temporary, frees up the home designer in me, so making the adjustments and arranging the kitchen to my liking proceeds quickly. Once that is accomplished, everything will go smoothly; all that is left is to enjoy my vacation. 

After a welcomed and reasonably good night's sleep, I set about getting breakfast ready. Sweet hubby was enjoying his cup of tea on the deck overlooking Bahia Mujeres (the Bay of Women) with the Cancun skyline in the distance. As he settled in, all the travel nightmares began to slip away, leaving peaceful relaxation to fill their space. Growing absent were the thoughts of his daily work life. The melody of birds singing and the sounds of each wave washing along the sugar-soft white sand beach below us filled his mind instead. Breathing in the tropical air and feeling the warm, humid breeze as it wafted over him let him know he had arrived in nothing short of nirvana. 

I was preparing our breakfast, anticipating our first day in our new world. There was not much difference in the daily routine as I performed the same tasks at home, but doing them on a tropical island added something special.

Neither of us would have assumed that our calm, relaxed atmosphere was about to come to a screaming halt, my screaming, to be precise. It was at the point I had to move the garbage can from under the counter when everything changed. 

Once the garbage can was where I wanted it to be, my eyes caught a darting black object scurrying toward me. My instincts clicked in, and my brain, just getting used to tropical island time, was suddenly thrust into survival mode. 

The brain is a unique mechanism. It can and does a gazillion things all at the same time, and though mine this morning was still a little dazed from the lack of sleep and time zone changes, it went right into high gear.

My shrill voice cut through the thick humidity, startling even me. First, my eyes saw the black object racing in my direction as my brain, doing its undeniably phenomenal job, identified what it was. My only life experience was limited to seeing them in a science class aquarium or museum.

 "It's ahh, black scorpion!" 

Enveloped in his calm place, my voice was loud and clear enough for sweet hubby to hear and, without question, understand my words. Upon reflection, I think the people at the farthest ends of the island heard me, too. 

The speed at which a person can react under such circumstances is fascinating. I have no memory of how I moved as quickly as I did. Looking back, I am perplexed at how I could physically perform the acrobatic act that I did without the aid of a trampoline. Without thought or preparation, I jumped up and backward simultaneously and found myself sitting on the countertop. Considering that I am 5'4" and the counter is more than half my height for me to do this, I can only rationalize I have grasshopper in my DNA. Now … the twitch I periodically experience in my legs makes sense. 

Mind you, sweet hubs stands 6' and is in excellent physical condition. Regardless, the reaction time required during this disturbing event was due to that same primal part of the human brain that assisted me with my sudden gymnast agility a second or two before.

Let me be clear. Hubby is my hero. He always has been. After having been together for decades, I can tell you that he has proved it time and time again. It is not just the episodes when I need his courage to fend off wildlife or creatures born from the depths of hell but his everyday actions. He has always been there for me with his kind and gentle nature to assist, support, or be present when I need him. This first morning of our vacation would prove to be no different.

Upon hearing my panicked acclimation of this unwelcome intruder and not just any intruder, but a black scorpion, something neither of us had ever encountered before, he was there. Not knowing exactly where the scorpion was, all he could do was read my rigid body language. His primal instinct to protect me rose to the surface as he rushed to my aid. 

My legs stretched straight out before me, my knuckles white from being clenched around the edge of the countertop were clear indicators that this invader had to be somewhere close. Still, while darting, his eyes questioned where this dangerous adversary was. The words blurted out of me with a clear and distinct purpose:

"It’s under the garbage can!"

Over the decades, we have encountered more than our fair share of bugs. Some were hairy, some not. There have been those with long legs, while others had short stubby ones. There has been a copious mix of spiders, lizards, and even snakes in our home. Usually thoughtful gifts one of our cats would graciously bless us with or just the fortuity of one of life's little jests. No matter how they got there, it was with my single-minded determination that these creatures varying in size, speed, agility, and every level of repulsion known to man were not to remain house guests. I always intended to catch and release them back into the wild. After all, they have a place in this world, as do we, and our coexistence only works well when we are not sharing the same abode.

So at some point, I introduced sweet hubby to the bug bowl/paper plate remedy. And being the patient, dear, and always wanting to please man that he is, he adapted well to this method and found my innovative tools helpful and adequate. 

Locating these items posed no problem at home as they stayed in the same place. Here in our tropical get-a-way, I still needed to secure such items. Now, when needed most, there was nothing immediately at hand. But hubby is ingenious and quite capable of solving problems. The scorpion had heard its call for survival. I saw it rush back under the garbage can. When hubby moved the garbage can, his opponent revealed its stinger with his tail spiked up in attack mode. Hubby grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be a plastic serving spoon. While wielding his spoon and the scorpion rapidly thrusting his stinging tail at it, both went into battle with warrior precision.

The years of bug catch-and-release indoctrination drove his actions. He intended to scoop the scorpion up and catapult it outside and as far away as possible. Once again, securing the safety of his home and family.

Before our being together, he may have chosen to step on such a creature. I have what would seem to some an altered theory about such behavior. It is my belief in what I call bug karma. This belief is not just a fluke of my personality or a happenstance approach to my coexistence with them. Indeed, not. This belief grows from years of hard-learned lessons. Whenever I have deliberately killed one or, in some cavalier fashion, been dismissive of the means of abatement of one, an encounter with another one follows. However, the next time the bug is usually bulkier and more threatening than the last. So I have passed this view of nature's balance or bug karma to hubby. Being the wonderful man he is, he has followed my lead in this area of practice, whether out of compliance or because he, too, is a believer. On this day, he intended to save the scorpion as he had done previously with hundreds of other vile and intrusive home invaders.

The battle between the spoon and the scorpion was fierce from its inception. Hubby, like a skilled swordsman, wielded his spoon at the scorpion. And, at lightning speed, the scorpion spun and repeatedly stung the spoon, all in a dizzying dangerous dance, until finally and only as a last resort, hubby and the spoon ended it. The scorpion lay squished and still, but not before he had put up a gallant fight, leaving his advisory a bit shaken and me adequately nauseous. 

At the time, I was relieved that the whole unpleasant situation was at an end. Little did I know what lay just around the corner; in just a short time, hubby and I would face the dreaded retribution of, yes, bug karma. 

I did not find it difficult to summon up and make a conscious effort in my approach to my surroundings and dealings with the insect world. When I am practical in my reaction to encounters with them, my world is balanced. When I make rash or careless decisions, balance is lost. It is as simple as that.

Surprisingly, our recovery from our shocking scorpion drama was not long. Adjusting to the heat, humidity, and jet lag was draining enough. It could have been a combination of all of it, but whatever the cause, lazily, we cast the entire event out of our minds. Time would prove our lack of regard, especially mine, towards the events that morning were not all that good of an idea.

More to come in Part 3