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HUNTSMAN!!
A Close Encounter with a Huntsman Spider

On a scorching summer night, I stepped out of my friend's house in the suburbs of western
Sydney, Australia. It was December 2006. We had spent the day working near Port Botany
since early morning and decided to make a detour to Coogee Beach before heading home.

That summer, we had developed a tradition of indulging in ice cream from a local shop. As we
made our way to the beach, I savored the flavors of doce de leite and strawberry, relishing the
sweet treat.

Our motive for going to the beach instead of immediately returning home was to avoid the
notorious rush hour traffic on the M4 Motorway. The commute that should have taken 30
minutes during off-peak hours turned into a two-hour ordeal under the scorching sun. Despite
the aging VW Golf's struggling air conditioning, it couldn't entirely shield us from the
sweltering heat.

By visiting the beach first and returning after 7 pm, we hoped to escape the worst of the
traffic. That evening, as the sun set behind the distant Blue Mountains, we arrived at my
friend's place around 8 pm.

After enjoying a delicious barbecue chicken dinner and catching a bit of television, I said my
goodbyes around 9 pm. My car was parked under some pine trees, and in my haste, I had left
the windows down, overlooking a potential problem.

As I closed the car door, a sense of unease gripped me. It had been nearly six months since I
last saw my family. What was initially supposed to be a six-week temporary job had extended
far beyond my expectations. My family lived in Queensland's Gold Coast, and I made it a point
to call them every night from my cell phone.

Reversing out of the driveway and bidding my friend farewell with a customary toot, I dialed
my wife's number while adjusting the sun visor. Just as she answered with a cheerful "Hello?",
I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. Before I could react, a huntsman spider
dropped onto my bare leg, perching itself just above my left knee. I interrupted my wife mid-
sentence, blurting out, "I'll call you back! I have a huntsman spider on my leg." Her voice
echoed with disbelief through the tiny speaker of my Nokia 3310.

The sporadic streetlights provided enough illumination for me to witness the hand-sized
huntsman spider staring back at me, seemingly as surprised as I was. It had sought refuge on
the sun visor, and when I moved it, the spider lost its footing and landed on my leg. The
sensation of a large spider on my exposed skin was unnerving, to say the least.

I continued driving through the traffic, a perpetual shiver running down my spine. Trying to
minimize movement, I shifted gears cautiously, as the spider had landed on the leg that was in
constant motion during gear changes. Thoughts raced through my mind, desperately
searching for a safe spot to pull over. I couldn't let the spider out of my sight, so I needed to
find a suitable location near a street light.

Another disturbing thought crept in—I was wearing loose beach shorts. The gap between my
leg, the shorts, and the seat presented a potential entry point for the spider to explore the
sensitive skin inside my thigh. The notion sent a chill down my spine, adding to my mounting
anxiety.

As I slowed down in search of a suitable stopping point, the cars behind me began flashing
their lights. The pressure to find a safe spot intensified. Regrettably, the first street light
passed without providing an opportune place to stop. Nonetheless, I caught a glimpse of the
spider inching closer to the

inside of my left leg. I delicately used the tip of my toes to operate the clutch, hoping to avoid
agitating the spider.

The following street light seemed impossibly distant, as if it were hundreds of kilometers away
instead of a mere 50 meters. Despite my growing apprehension, I remained focused on the
road ahead. I couldn't help but imagine the spider making its way into my shorts, enticed by
the open invitation to explore the tender flesh of my thigh.

Frantically, I maneuvered through the traffic, desperately seeking a chance to halt under a
street light. But luck was not on my side—I couldn't stop under the next light either. Panic
started to creep in as I wondered where the spider had disappeared. Was it already inside my
shorts, trying to hide or find a concealed spot to evade detection? My eyes strained to catch
any sign of its presence.

The dreadful realization hit me—she was inside my shorts! Anxiously gripping the loose part
of the fabric, I pulled it away from my leg, hoping to create a small buffer between the spider
and my vulnerable skin. However, the fear of accidentally pinching one of its legs and
provoking a defensive strike haunted my thoughts, sending shivers down my spine.

Action was necessary. I had to move, even if it meant risking a bite. But I couldn't startle the
spider either, as it might scurry further up my leg in fear. Holding the outside of my shorts' leg
with two fingers, I gingerly pulled it away from my body. Inch by painstaking inch, I slid out of
my seat, planning my next move meticulously.

With utmost caution, I reached for the door handle, preparing to exit the vehicle. Every
moment was filled with anticipation, expecting a sharp sting at any given second. Placing my
right leg on the road's surface, followed by my left leg, I braced myself for the worst-case
scenario of removing my shorts on the side of the road, illuminated by oncoming headlights—
a potential embarrassing spectacle.
A chilling thought crossed my mind—I was still clad in the same beach shorts I had worn hours
earlier. Finally, both legs were planted firmly on the road, ready to stand. And then, to my
relief, I spotted her perched on the door frame, staring back at me. Breathing a sigh of relief, I
reached over and grabbed a pen from the glove box. Nudging her gently, I watched as she
leaped onto the road, rapidly scurrying toward the nearest stormwater drain.

That was the last I ever saw of her.

(True story by HG Guerrero Carminatti)