Snake in the Grass

I was getting ready to leave Winfield on Monday. I'd stayed over Sunday night but wasn't up for campground shenanigans due to already losing enough sleep (and my voice) over the weekend. So I splurged on a motel room in town, slept decently, and the next morning headed in to tear my tent and its belongings down.

I had come in to the festival at night, the Wednesday before, when it was already looking really full. My festival family welcomed me in, helped me to set up, and made me feel right at home in this little neck of the woods that was to be home for the next several days. (y'all are the best -- thanks so much -- I miss y'all already)

I came back to the now almost empty camp grounds. My tent was the lone survivor of the neighborhood. Fighting the strong Kansas winds, I emptied my tent of its contents, turned my tent over to dump out dirt clods and grass, laid out my tarp and staked it so it could dry, and began to pile all my stuff around my car.

My car is small (compact) and packing it requires careful consideration. It's not one I can pack by just throwing stuff in any old way. So I couldn't really start packing it until everything was in its respective bag, box, or rolled up or whatever. It took a good hour of work to get to this point.

I had put things near their packing location. For example, my tent, camp chairs, tables, and cooler were near the back of my car. My suitcase, hanging bag of clothes, violin case, and some other odds and ends were near the passenger door. I had opened both doors of the car, having gotten to the point where I was ready to start the big pile-in. My violin case was on the ground right beside the passenger seat area. My hanging bag was draped over the open passenger door. A couple other odds and ends sat nearby. I was about ten feet from this side of my car, and the wind was blowing, so things were flapping around a bit.

But none of them were moving through the grass.
Like the five foot long blacksnake.
Going about 10 mph.
Sliding right past me.
Heading straight for my car.
Slithering over the odds.
And the ends.
Working its way up my violin case.
Its head now above the case.
Peering inside my car.
(This takes about three seconds)

Simultaneously...
I'm crying out, "no, no, no".
I'm running toward the car.
I'm praying the snake will be scared.
I'm waving my arms toward it.
It slides off the case.
Goes under the car.
(The other door is open too...)

I shove my case out of the way...
Throw my hanging clothes off the door...
Slam the passenger door...
Run around my car...
Slam the driver's door...
Stand there shaking...
What if it's in the car...
What if it's in the car...
Where did it go...
Is it in the car?
Oh, sh**.
Where is it.

I emptied out what was already in my car. Poked something under the seats. No sign. I moved my car a few feet. No snake. Nothing to do but pack up. After I'd driven an hour or so, it occurred to me that the snake could have crawled up into the engine where it was nice and warm. So I stopped and lifted the hood, peered around. Nothing.

Nothing to do but hope that old snake stayed in Winfield.

But I haven't been out to my car since I got home.

What if it's sunning itself in the windshield?

Nah...

Certainly not.

I hope...