Roach Trials in New Orleans!

I’ve lived in this area for two years, and I tell you what they never cease to incite fear within me. The big ones, you know, the ones that might fly but you’re not gonna stand around waiting to find out. They say that those are the ones that are the least worrisome, because it’s the small ones that imply an infestation. Well, I’ll tell you right now that the obese ones get me every time. My best friend Christie and I deemed them “Cross Country Cockroaches” back in high school (Ruston High, ’07) as we discussed with terror and utter disgust the roach trauma we had been through in the past and how we’d noticed a consistent pattern in that the bigger they are…the faster they run.

You see, I grew up in a college town in North Central Louisiana called Ruston. It’s got a softness about it, an untouched (in both good and bad respects), and it does indeed have roaches, as do most humid climates. But goodness gracious, when I lighted upon New Orleans, I’m afraid I didn’t anticipate the ferocity with which they present themselves here. It certainly doesn’t help that I have RLV, or Roach Laser Vision, as I can feel one in my bones if it’s a room away, I swear to you. Keeping that in mind, let me tell you about my two most recent roach terrors:

It was the night of the Saints-Cowboys game the Sunday before last (Who Dat), and I was alone in my room cleaning and whatnot while watching, when I realized that my darling Saints were wearing my FAVORITE BLACK PANTS. They look so suave and sleek in em and every time I see them I want to give a shout, and oftentimes do. This time, I actually started to do a little pelvis-gyration-arm-pump dance while sitting on my bed, rejoicing over the dark and dominant beauty of the tights.

Then I looked down and saw, to my utter dismay…a roach clinging to my pajama pant legs. Celebration turned to terror, to disgust, to desperation, to an unpleasant non-romantic “weak at the knees,” to a pathetic whimper and clammy clawing at my vulnerable cheeks. My goosebumps were about the size of the largest zit as I frantically yelled “NO, NO, NO, NO, NO…WHY ME?!?!” At this point I usually implore the High Heavens. Rarely do I get an answer back from God. But trust me, He knows the damage it does to my soul. He is very much aware, and sometimes, I really do believe it makes Him chuckle. It’s whatever.

I then grabbed a shoe that did not deserve to be reduced to such a state of roach-smashing, but you gotta do what you gotta do. I grabbed that shoe and smashed it to smithereens, and then went about disposing of it down the toilet. Most of the time I want to light a match and burn it to ensure that it and its spawn never show their faces in my presence again: but the idea of producing roach fumes and letting them settle in my habitat is not so alluring.

After the deed was done, it took me a good 30 minutes to stabilize and return to sanity.

We then completely massacred the Cowboys, and I think that part of that win could possibly be attributed to the initially cowardly yet eventually valiant spirit I mustered up and put out into the world in order to defeat my own enemy.

Now, let’s take it to today. I was singing and dancing in the kitchen with my fake Tap Dance Shoes (TDS’s) about how Christmas is in the air, because it’s moderately chilly in New Orleans and that is worthy of song and dance. Well, I was getting really into it exclaiming: “Christmaaaaas, Christmasssss, Christmaaaaas…you’re in the air and you’re heeeeeeere!!” as I went about my way. Well, eventually I slid down a part of the wooden floors, but felt a slick catalyst under my foot and wondered to myself: “Eh? Now what was that?!”

I look down and: roach guts everywhere, pardon the graphic detail. Thankfully, I unintentionally killed this one and didn’t have to deal with the psychological turmoil of tracking and killing while my relatively tame gag reflex starts to act up.

You know what? You can’t escape them here. And that sucks. But you also know what? I love New Orleans, and I’ll battle the creatures day in and day out if I have to. But not without a fight. I might not be able to take them to trial, but I will conquer what is within my means. But let me not be pretentious and act more brave than I am, because I’ll tell it to you straight, and I’ve said it before: Every time I see a roach I feel like I need a man in my life.


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