Women have the babies. We're strong like that. A divine someone or other gave us something extra. So women have the babies. And feel the feelings. Lord almighty. Women feel the feelings. Acute love, helplessness, guilt. So women have the babies and feel the feelings. And now, it's come to my attention that women have to catch the snakes too! Time out fellas...
I was at work the other day, in the upstairs part of the museum (which is rumored to be haunted you know) and I was talking to the energetic Tania when a radio call came through. I can never hear on those things so Tania translated. "Snake," was pretty much all she said getting up from her desk in a flurry of thick, dark curls and angst. "Come with me. You're not scared of things like this."
And she's right, I'm not scared of snakes. Or toads. Or mice. Or cows. Or chickens. I am not afraid to walk through rows of razor sharp corn husks (seriously, ever run through a cornfield? It's not all moonlight and magic. It hurts.) So off we go, down the big staircase, out the "Authorized Personnel Only" door and out into the glory of the Roundhouse (where the big trains sit, waiting to be ogled) And we go to the spot of the sighting.
But, no snake.
I think this was when Tania started to tug at her hair. "It could be hiding," I offered. It would fit right into your hair you know. Could crawl right up and blend in with your curls."
"Oh, nice Tiff. Thanks a lot," she sputtered taking off on her skinny legs across the wooden turntable floor. We peeked under a caboose and inside a stagecoach, but no snake.
"He's just looking for someplace cool to rest," I explained to her. "It's hot out there."
"Well I don't care," she said. "He can rest somewhere else!"
Giving up, we walked out and went our separate ways to our separate work spaces. Not five minutes later I'm summoned back out to the Roundhouse. Out the glass doors, down the little stairs, I see it. A three, maybe four foot black snake. And was he ever pissed. Coiled. Head up a bit, and snapping at the hapless old volunteer trying to corral him into a bucket. And my first thought was, there are a lot of children around. My second thought was, that dummy is trying to catch the snake a la Animal Planet.
And I guess our snake has watched Jeff Corwin too because he didn't fall for the ole grab the head and subdue trick. Nope he bit the volunteer. SNAP! And then the blood fell in fat, red drops onto the concrete and some faces blanched and the snake felt vindicated I'm sure. I wouldn't want my face smooshed either. So there we were, five men, a few women, a bucket and a mop. So man #2 and man #3 (man #1 being old, bitten volunteer now on his way to the ER) well these men use the mop to convince the snake to get in the bucket. And there's a lot of back patting and "Yeah! We got 'em!" And man #2 sets off across the large expanse of the museum to let the snake go far away when (SURPRISE SURPRISE!) little black snake wriggles his way out of the bucket and stealthily slithers towards a group of young field trippers. Shouts of, "Coooool, a snake!" and "Man, I bet I can catch it," echo off the high ceiling. So I did what any self respecting country girl would do, I ran across the museum, asking the children to stay far away and we coaxed the snake outside away from tiny hands.
I grabbed a trash bag from the nearest can and used it to surround the snake - offering darkness and safety. He climbed in willingly and I cinched it shut, handing it to man #2. Dusting off my hands I walked back into the museum when man #4 exclaimed, "Pretty! And smart too!"
That's when I re-applied my designer chapstick and got back to my "lady work".
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