La Cucaracha

FACT: Cockroaches reproduce quickly. For every one you see there can be 200 more hiding and multiplying behind your walls. Because cockroaches are nocturnal, if you’ve seen one, you haven’t seen them all. The few cockroaches you see by day were likely forced out by overcrowding; a possible sign of severe infestation.
[Source: Orkin.com]

September 1, 2006: It's my first night sleeping in my new apartment. I had originally envisioned myself moving into a permanently dirty basement apartment and am content with my new adorable and clean but living room-less Astoria pad. I don't have my bed frame yet, so my mattress is leaning against the wall. I am sleeping on a futon and my roommate Kayla, is using lawn chairs as bedroom furniture that she found in her Grandma's basement that haven't been unfolded since 1972. Tomorrow is my first day of work. I'm unpacking my suitcase and trying to flatten my wrinkly shirts with my hands because (obviously) we don't have an iron. Then I see it. Tentacles darting back and forth. It is huge - the size of my dad's funny looking thumb. It's perched up on top of my NEW mattress and it's looking out MY bedroom window. I have never screamed so loud. I tell Kayla she has to kill it. She says no, so I do it.

September 2, 2006 - August 2, 2007: I'm not even thinking about cockroaches - totally off my radar. That one we had came in from the Man with a Van who helped me shuttle my belongings back and forth from Nora's apartment. There's no way this clean, empty apartment could have produced such an obese monster like that. No way.

August 2, 2007: Kayla and I get home from the gym. My feet are sweating so I take off my shoes and go into the bathroom. I shut the door and THERE IT IS. Right in the corner! A fat cockroach! I start praying the thing will just explode or disappear or turn into something else, like an arrowhead, a mini Snickers, even a turd. Then I scream and run into my room for my shoes. Kayla comes flying out of her room wearing rain boots because she knows what's happening. And then, when we're both ready to face it with our heavy feet it scurries out of the bathroom and into the hallway closet. We stuff a dirty towel under the closet door knowing this won't keep the cockroach in, but also knowing it's the only thing that will make us feel safe. The next day we buy RAID: Giant Cockroach and spray away until we literally can't breath.

August 4-11, 2007: Kayla and I are leaving the apartment and heading to Key Foods. As she hops down the last step and out the door, I see it. A dead cockroach - right on our pineapple welcome mat. We both agree THAT'S the one! That's the one that got away from us and we trapped in the closet with the towel! Now it's dead. Now we can sleep...

...until we find 4 more dead. Kayla finds most of them when I'm not home - I get text messages that say things like, "ANOTHER ONE DOWN - LEGS STILL TWITCHING" and "I think we should start naming them".

August 12, 2007: We decide to tell the landlords about our problem. They tell us:

A) Bring out your garbage every night and stay clean.
B) We haven't seen any in OUR apartment...
C) Everyone in NYC has cockroaches and if they say they don't, they're lying.
D) We'll sprinkle some boric acid in that crack at the bottom of the stairs and stuff steel wool in there, too.

September 2, 2007: I'm home alone and it's nighttime and I'm about to go to bed. But first I need some water. I flip on the kitchen light and there, in the middle of the floor is a BIG momma cockroach. She's large and in charge and not scared of the light. So, I breath slowly and head back into my room for shoes trying to build my confidence up every step of the way only to find that when I return to the scene, she's gone. I'm crushed. I fall asleep that night in a ball underneath my covers.

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Since Sunday, we've had a total of six dead cockroaches and two get-aways. I can't handle putting another tally on our refrigerator post-it note that's keeping our cockroach count.

All of the confidence I possess is yanked from me when I see a cockroach. Cockroaches make me feel inadequate and self-conscious. They make me feel bad about myself. "I mean, I'm not a dirty person," I want to tell them. All of them. Because clearly, according to the Orkin Man, this is a problem. I have more than one roommate. I have like, 200.