Man Versus Flying Cockroach

Returning to our mountain retreat after dinner in the scenic village of Pai in northern Thailand I could see my bungalow from a distance. I had wisely turned on my porch light.
 
Andreas and Irmi walked the dark pass to their bungalow while I watched our driver reverse the van and drive back to the main road. I was in a happy mood as I approached my porch. A giant flying cockroach flew around the porch light, then dive bombed down against the front window, the crack of its hard shell audible in the quiet night. My happy mood changed instantly into one of reluctant fear.
 
I stood paralyzed on the porch steps, door key in hand, afraid to move ahead. The roach circled the porch light, rejected its heat, dove down against the front door of my bungalow. It smashed into the wood, clung there for a second or two gathering its wits or strength, and flew up again toward the blinding light. On tiptoes I stepped onto the porch only to quickly retract as the enemy roach took a flying dive at me, missing me by an inch. Back up to the light, hovering, watching my next approach. Then it came down at me in another attack; only by springing back off the porch did I avoid collision. I felt scared, embarrassed at myself.
 
I recalled another similar battle years ago on the Island of  Phuket, a battle I survived victoriously after some frightful time. Now I faced another battle with a flying warrior roach. I was determined to reach my bungalow. I would prefer a peaceful entry. I was in no mood for a prolonged fight. It wasn't to be.
 
A battle of wits or strength, if I wanted to enter the sanctuary of my bungalow, was unavoidable. The roach was in no mind to let me pass. Retreating into the safety of darkness I looked at the situation strategically like a general. The enemy's strength was its speed and its fearlessness. Its weakness was the irresistible attraction to the porch light. I could not determine my strength, only my pathological fear to have the flying roach settle on my face or hair. I had no advantage. I could of course look for a stick in the darkness and smash the porch light. That seemed a silly idea.
 
Minutes passed, my mind going blank while my heart palpitated rapidly. I forced the issue. I took a deep breath and bravely rushed onto the porch, waving my hat like a madman with my left hand while the right one tried to insert the key into the lock. The vicious roach crashed audibly into the door a few inches above my hand. Being bent low I could clearly see its antennas waving in front of my eyes.
 
I lost it; I dropped my key and hastily retreated off the porch back into the darkness of the path. Did I hear the critter cackle or did I only imagine it? It sure made me angry as I watched the roach rest itself against my door for a short time. Then it ascended again upward to the hot light. Did the roach not realize that its enemy was the porch light, not I? It was the heat from the light that made it do the dives down onto the porch territory. Why wasn't it smart enough to realize it, fly away and leave me in peace? I realized that it was my silly foresight – turning on the porch light that had me in this predicament. I had no one to blame but myself. Okay, so next time I’ll take along my flashlight. But what about now?
 
The sudden need for a toilet pushed everything else from my mind.
I watched a new crash-landing against my door. I swung into action. Here comes Rambo. Screaming like a demented fool I rushed onto the porch, and swiped the stunned roach off the door into the air.
 
Round One of the final battle was mine. I bent low for my key, grabbed it, stuck it into the lock and quickly turned it. Hastily I opened the door while retracting the key. I slid into my dark room and pulled the door closed behind me. At the same time I heard a crack as my enemy smashed against the window. With shaking hand, pulsating heart and weak knees I turned off the porch light and rushed into the bathroom. Only then did I hear the hysterical laughter of Irmi and Andreas from their adjacent bungalow.
 
"Good night, Pebo, good night. Don't let the cockroach bite you," they both shouted laughingly into the night.
 
I didn't reply, gave them the silent finger instead. It took me a long time to relax from my ordeal, even though again I had survived victoriously.
 
 
Pebo