Oh no Katy-DIDN'T!

After 6 endless days working with perfectly cute Girl Scouts (and 5 torturous nights spent cursing an obnoxious bug outside my hotel window), I was free to return to gritty reality and NYC on Tuesday morning. I happily made my way down through the woods to my car, which had sat in a cozy parking lot surrounded by a babbling brook, Bambi and bugs since my arrival a week before.

As I sped down the Taconic toward the Saw Mill Parkway and away from Westchester, I noticed a small, bright green spider peeking out from behind my side mirror. Figures, I thought. Could the bug be any other color after a week with Girl Scouts? I wouldn't be surprised if it could spin a web of rainbow sprinkles.

Then, about 4 miles down the Saw Mill, I was shocked to see a gigantic green bug crawling on the lower right corner of my windshield! It was a katydid, the very same kind of bug whose sound was closest to the anonymous one that had annoyed the shit out of me all week (see previous blog, "I'm calling the cicada cops").


The bug on my windshield looked just like the one I heard (whatever that means).

As I sped closer to a 12 o'clock meeting in midtown, I figured the bug would eventually blow away. But, even at 70 mph, the only indication of speed was his antennae blowing wildly in the breeze and an occasional leg shift to steady his grip. Not wanting to be directly responsible for his death, I refrained from using the windshield wipers (I was unsure if this was the same bug whose demise I had been praying for).

About 30 miles later, I merged onto the Henry Hudson (aka West Side Hwy) and paid a toll as I entered Manhattan. Perfect chance for the bug to fly away...but it didn't. I snapped a picture of it as a taxi sped by just south of the GW. The bug seemed just as determined as I was to get to midtown.


This picture cracks me up (and almost inspired me to write a children's book called "Katy-did-it" about the adventures of a bug...almost).

As I exited at 96th Street, I decided to get the bug off my car as I would be parking in a garage and his doom would be sealed in such a place. I pulled over on Riverside Drive where the trees were still thick enough to afford a lush new home for my stow-away.

I figured I could pick him up by the wings and fling him into a nearby tree; however, the second my hand neared his weird bum, he made the most obnoxious noise...the SAME NOISE THAT HAD KEPT ME UP FOR THE LAST 5 NIGHTS!!!

Vengeance was mine.

I began flicking him with glee in my attempts to get him off the car. It was a mixture of joy (to discover the culprit at last!) and resolve (to get this bug out of my life once and for all). The noise became louder and more frequent but still, he refused to fly away.

Thanks to his loud and obnoxious eeh, eeh, eeh's, a group of two well-dressed mothers and their perfectly-coiffed children walking on the sidewalk took notice of my efforts. As he walked up my windshield and over the roof of my car towards the road, I felt their stare. I had to pretend to care. I could not flick him into oncoming traffic. Dammit.

To stop my cruel flicking, one of the mothers suggested I pluck a leaf from the tree and use it to relocate the bug (she'd probably been a Girl Scout). I followed her advice and as I placed the bug into a nearby tree, the group erupted in cheers and high fives (they were all probably Girl Scouts). I left before anyone started singing "Make new friends, but keep the old..."

As I drove away, I fumed about the upper west side momsters thwarting my revenge. But, the anger dissolved when I realized that they probably live in some $4 million brownstone on a block near where I left the obnoxious katydid.

Sleep tight, I hope that bug keeps you up all night!


(L) 96th Street and Riverside where I resolved to rid myself of the bug and (R) the tree where the bug is probably still making a nuisance of himself.