Yesterday I went out for a late evening walk and when I returned home I had a mini freak out.
As I came up the stairs to the second floor hallway I saw something bobbing through the air toward me and then whiz by my legs. I thought at first it was a bird that somehow got trapped indoors, but when it got to the end of the hall, turned, and gained altitude as it approached me, I knew it was no bird. It was a bat.
"Oh shit!" I cried out. My reaction next was less than manly. I behaved more like a frightened teenage girl from any horror movie when she is being pursued by some monster or killer or giant bloodthirsty bat.
I scrambled for my keys and ran for my apartment door, ducking and yelling each time the bat flew by my head. It continued to travel up and down the hall while I struggled to find the right key. My heart was pounding, my palms sweaty, and a leathery demon was on hall patrol.
So, anyway, I made it inside safely. I don't know how the bat ended up getting in the apartment building, and I didn't have the nerve to go back out and deal with it. I'll leave that for the other tenants. Yep, I'm a good neighbor. Great, even.
Sure it was a shocking experience, but didn't a young Bruce Wayne also have a similar traumatic bat-related situation? Does this mean that I too may also become a crime fighting hero? Does it mean I will dress up like the creature that frightened me so that I may strike fear in my enemies? Does it also mean that I like to jump to conclusions? One of those is probably true.
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