The Most Terrifying Moment of My Life - 2 (yes, it happened again)

In 2013, I wrote a post detailing the most terrifying moment of my life. It is one of my least favorite posts - mostly because I do not like revisiting the horrors of  that incident. Never in a million years would I have ever imagined that something like that would happen to me...a second time.

For anyone who has actually read that post when I wrote it 7 years ago and still remembers what happened:

1. wow you're old. also, how on earth does your brain have that much storage?
2. it happened again, guys. it freaking happened again.

My day started like any other does in the current climate we live in. Waking up at home, eating at home, working from home, sleeping at home - rinse, repeat.

It shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that I am spending a LOT of time in the kitchen these days (points at expanding stomach). Initially, it was because the quarantining pRoDucTiViTy that people were showcasing on Instagram seriously got to me. The amount of Dalgona Coffees and Banana Breads on every corner of social media made me want to pull my hair out - but also, made me feel like I was wasting all this extra free time I was bestowed with by not learning a skill.

So I baked and baked and baked and whisked and whisked and whisked.

I spent over one hour compiling these headlines and arranging them into this picture. Don't let it flop.

The Ramadan began, and if you know anything about girls in Ramadan, you know we are forced :) into :) the :) kitchen :) while :) the :) men :) sleep :) all :) day :).

I usually wrap up work at 5 pm and that's when my kitchen duty starts. It's my mum and me doing most of the cooking (with my grandma and aunt periodically assisting) - and after Iftar, it's usually me who does all the washing up. All in all, I get totally free from the kitchen around 9 pm - which would be fine, but...

We have roaches, you guys.

And they emerge at night.

Now, we didn't always have roaches. Okay, I'm lying. We always freaking had a roach problem. It's not just us though - our neighbors have complained of it too, particularly in the summertime. So please don't assume that we just breed those disgusting brown suckers in our cabinets. THE WHOLE STREET RAISES THEM TOGETHER. We got an entire extermination team in last year who absolutely ENDED those roaches' careers. But alas, the sweet relief was temporary. We had a good year without them... and now, they're back in full force.

The thing I hate the most about these scuttling pests are that they really know when to make an appearance. You need the cutting board? Oops, there's a roach stuck on the underside. Washing dishes? Oh dear, Mr. Roach seems to be having a swim - oh wait, he's being sucked down the drain! You're entering the kitchen for a midnight snack? Uh oh, you've busted the Daily Roach Gathering that congregates on the kitchen counters and table and disperses in 0.00005 seconds when you switch on the light.

Anyway. I digress. It was during one of these Ramadan days where (thanks to my completely messed up body clock) I found myself in the kitchen around 11 pm searching for a snack.

And that's when it happened.

It started out innocuous enough. I was rummaging through a cupboard, hoping I could manifest a sleeve of chocolate chip cookies into existence - if not cookies, then at least one of those mini Shahi Chilli Chip packets that simultaneously felt like birth and death when you ate them - when I felt something land on my face.

In that moment, I could not tell you if time stopped, or if I was the one who froze. All I knew was that there was a weight on my left cheek that felt abnormal and alien. From my peripheral vision, all I could see was a dark, unknown mass.

AND THEN IT SPREAD ITS WINGS.

You guys. It was a motherfucking FLYING COCKROACH.

AND IT WAS ON MY FACE.

As soon as the wings spread, I knew I was gone. One hundred percent a dead woman. Flashbacks from when the first time this happened to me kept occurring. At least this time, I had enough presence of mind to scream.

As soon as the aghast cry left my mouth, the cockroach flew off my face and left with the speed of someone that just realized their 4000-rupees-per-session therapy appointment started five minutes ago and they were still home.

In the flurry of thoughts that I had in that moment, one that particularly stuck out was that my first encounter with a flying cockroach was so many years ago and I was so little - maybe that's why it had looked so massive to me at the time? But judging by the size of the one that violated my cheek in 2020, the now - I was mortified to see that the species of flying cockroaches were as huge as ever.

Unfortunately for me, this wasn't the end of my encounter. The flying cockroach was still flitting across the kitchen. It was free to land on the multitude of surfaces in the room, which also included my face again. Thankfully, my banshee-esque scream had summoned half of my household who also ended up staring in horror at the mutated, winged creature for a couple of seconds before snapping into action with bug spray and a broom.

So yeah. This has been the most terrifying moment of my life 2. Here's to hoping part 3 never gets written, because it will never happen. Right? Right?

Sigh. If this incident has taught me anything, it's that I'm cursed and I am to expect another flying cockroach encounter in the next 10-15 years. I just know that this won't be my last rodeo. Oh, and availing extermination services annually is a great idea. Just saying.

Here's a picture my sister made to commemorate the existence of the flying roach. Trust me, it did not look as cute as this at all.

See you really soon,

Furree