Creatures in the Night

Not too long ago, at least in the perspective of life, a friend came to town with her family. I remember the family being large, there must have been at least seven children and some
friends. All were either teenagers or sneaking into their early twenties. With a family came a dog that was friendly enough but he was huge, kind of a cross between a great dane and a bear. His wagging tail could almost break a leg if it hit you just right and he had a bladder that stored a veritable reservoir of modified water.
  My friend's boys and daughters, et alt had never been backpacking so the purpose of the trip was for me to take them backpacking to a place where they could hike and enjoy some
excellent fishing. Being an over the top backpacker I knew just the place and was anxious
and excited to be their leader on the first time ever trip for the family.
  The drive to the trail head was forever. From our home it took almost 7 hours in two vehicles on dusty roads with endless twists and turns through pine forests that somehow
seemed like they would never end.  At the trail head we all piled our gear out on the
ground, I dutifully leaned my pack against a tree so it would not be stepped on or tripped
over. As we discussed the trail and the distances we had to go before camp that evening
the aforementioned dog decided it was time to empty the reservoir referenced above. Under
normal circumstances this would not have been a big deal but in this case my red pack must have resembled the time honored fire hydrant and became the target of the dog.
The trip was not starting off on the right foot.
  We had planned to hike for a couple of hours then hike and fish until we found a suitable camp site for the evening. Our day went as planned and as often is the case evening came
sooner than we had planned. The day had been hot and there was moisture aloft so the
afternoon became cloudy with thunder clouds developing in all quadrants of the sky. It appeared it could be a wet night even though rain had not  yet started. 
  There was an old miner's cabin close to the trail and we spotted it with some relief thinking
that we could spend the night in the cabin and avoid wet tents and constant noise from the
wind tearing against our tiny shelters. The floor of the cabin was littered with pine cones and other food hulls, evidence that either rats or squirrels had used its protection before us. We
spread our bags out in the grass in front of the cabin to loft them up for the night. I hung mine over a bush that allowed  it to loft from both sides. We then went to work to clean the
cabin out. An old piece of the stove was a makeshift dustpan and pine bows served as
a back country broom. Soon the place was presentable and we had enough room for all of
us to spread our bags out on the floor. I cooked dinner for the group on a couple of back
packing stoves and everyone, being wildly hungry from the hike, wolfed the food down and then we all rolled into our bags.
  I am not sure when it was that I aware that there was something in the bag with me but  it may have been close to the middle of the night. At first it was almost an imperceptible movement, just enough to wake me and alarm me but made me wonder if I was imagining something or if there was really something there.  I was pie eyed awake by now wondering what was going on and laid as still as possible while something that felt like it was fury rubbed against my feet. There is nothing that is worse than getting out of a warm bag
at night when you are backpacking, this is an experience to be avoided at all costs  so
I laid still thinking that my imagination would snap into focus and whatever I was imagining
would go away. I was perfectly still, this time the gently furry feeling became aggressive and it felt as if something was trying to bite me. Cool night or not, underwear or not, it was time to exit the bag and find out what was going on. Only when you are shot up with adrenaline can you levitate from the horizontal to the vertical in a nanosecond and shed your bag in another nanosecond. I accomplished this feat in said time and rushed outside into the grass with my bag. I had a headlamp which was blazing brightly at this point and zipped the bag open full length and carefully examined the foot of the bag. There I found the offending creature, a bumble bee about the size of a sparrow, or so it seemed. In thought reversal
I realized when I threw my back over the bush to loft it, the hapless bee was probably going about gathering its evening meal and I captured it for the night's adventure. I have never
slept in a cabin on a backpacking trip again nor have I lofted a back without a careful
inspection of the bush that will hold my bag.
  We are out of the US now in a country where humidity, jungle growth and bugs are a regular part of life. My wife has a particular fetish for avoiding cockroaches at all costs and often scares me by screaming when she sees them. Being an otherwise calm person her screams send me through the roof and generally motivate me to dispatch the offending creature without delay so they don't cause more screaming.
  We had seen a couple in our room. They are really quite large (I hate the crunchy noise they make when you step on them) and they are black. Where we live at home they are smaller and brown and don't crunch quite so loudly. Part of our evening ritual is to pray together and it was my turn to pray. At the conclusion of the prayer and after the Amen, I made a flippant, prayerful statement about "not having any cockroaches running across our faces as we sleep." I would live to regret my flippant statement to Deity.
  I read for a while with a headlamp so as no to disturb my wife and then quickly fell asleep. My body is such that when it is sleep time, sleep comes in seconds, sometimes in the middle of the last sentence that I mutter before "flashing out." A 1:20 am I became aware that something was running up my arm which was out of the covers and wrapped around my neck. At the point my arm intersected my neck whatever was running up my arm took a logical exit and ran across my forehead and down my left cheek. I yelled "cockroach!" The lights in the room came on like prison lights when the escape alarm is sounded. I bolted from the bed in an adrenaline levitation move (see previous paragraph) and my wife was on her feet, pie eyed wondering where the creature was. I threw the covers clear of the bed, looked under the pillow and I could not find the cockroach. I could only assume that it got away or I had imagined it's existence. As I stood there I decided that as long as I was up it would be good to go to the restroom which was only steps away. I assumed the position in front of the toilet, lifted the lid and as I looked down I saw the biggest cockroach I have ever seen clinging to my T shirt. In one well timed motion I hit it with my hand and much to my surprise it disappeared. I looked behind the toilet, around the vanity cabinet and in all the corners of the room but there was no cockroach to be seen. It seemed prudent to not say anything to my wife who was headed for the restroom. I vacated my position and headed back to bed. As I settled in there was a scream and she came through the door as if shot from the Quaker Oats cannon. She was yelling about something in the waste basket next to the toilet, the only thing I had not checked before I declared the restroom safe.
  My one handed blow and sweep motion must have dispatched the cockroach on steroids directly into the trash. Unfortunately the blow was not fatal and the extreme ride through the air to the can not high enough velocity to cause instant death. I grabbed a sandal and went back into the bathroom, the only thing that is worst than a cockroach on the loose is a wife
who emits a scream when she sees it, better take care of the problem. When I moved the waste basket the creature jumped as if jet propelled and ran across the floor, ran in front of the shower and was momentarily delayed in the corner where the wall of the restroom and the shower meet. It was here that I thought the adventure would end, the cockroach did meet his end thanks to a sandal that hit the floor with such a noise that there was no audible "crunch" in the background. I picked up the bug with some toilet paper and sent him on  river trip down the toilet in a class ten rapid (not runnable without risk to life or limb) to a peaceful end in the Pacific Ocean.
  There was a certain amount of excitement associated with all of this activity, enough in fact that it was difficult to go back to sleep. When sleep came it was minutes and not seconds and the initial period of sleep was dominated by REM sleep with crazy dreams (?) of cockroaches running across my arms and face.  This morning discovered a copious supply of ant and roach killer in the utility room of the house, I am guessing it is there for a reason and surmise that it might be wise at the very least to utilize this resource before another night befalls our room.