The one where the bug flew down my shirt.

When I was in New York on my suuuuper amazing apartment hunting trip (I can't always tell if irony fairs well in written form?) my friends and I planned to meet up for Margaritas one Saturday evening in Manhattan. I was staying with my brother in Brooklyn, and we were meeting at 8, so I left in plenty of time for the subway ride, but I eventually had to take a cab to the restaurant because I went the wrong way once I got off the train, but that's neither here nor there.

It was a very warm night. I had on a dress with a scooped neck and a sort-of summer cardigan if you will, and my hair was down. We chatted and caught up whilst waiting for our 4th person to arrive before we could sit. The restaurant was very loud and quite dark, also very packed, but this did not particularly bother me. What did end up bothering me was moments away.

I mentioned that it was quite warm and that my hair was down, so I decided to put it up. No sooner had I gathered my tresses when I felt something fall out of my hair, land on my shoulder and slip down the inside of my dress. I remained calm. I did not want to cause a scene. I turned to the side to remove said something, thinking it was a leaf (I had been standing near a tree) when I finally realized what it was.

A cockroach. A cockroach had either been on my person, or along the wall where I sat and had then nestled itself down my dress, in my bra. I quickly used my hand-claws to fling it away from me, staving off vomit, towards a couple a table over. It hit one of them in the leg, falling to the ground dead. The next few minutes were a blur. I think half-famished from wandering around in the New York heat, half in shock, I continued to sit in this restaurant. I drank a Margarita. Worse, I stayed and ate a quesadilla. Actually, what really might be worse is that I did not alert my friends to said trauma that I had just underwent. I didn't really know how to though. I was mortified and disgusted, but also in disbelief...surely these things don't happen to people. Disgustingly foul insects just don't ended up in people's cleavage on hot summer nights, do they?

Well, yes, in New York, I guess they do.