Chapter 13 - Ant Adventure at the Holiday Inn

According to Boy: Curiously, for the past sixteen years we have lived virtually across the street from the motel in which this adventure occurred. However, it is no longer a Holiday Inn—the Holiday Inn Corporation sold or leased the building and property to another motel chain, and they built a new facility directly across the street, or just west of our house/business. So, that could mean one or both of two things: 1—Evie and I did not put them out of business; or, 2—our stupidity tipped the scales and they gave up at that location. (Or, our poor behavior was inconsequential.) Anyway, this is what happened.

The adventure occurred during my Christmas break, 1967. At least I think that was the occasion. I am sure it happened in 1967 (It was about that time that my maturity level began to develop). I had booked a room at the Holiday Inn. I could have stayed at my brother’s house, but opted for a motel room, hoping to "get lucky." My guess is that I had reservations for only one night (the night of my arrival), planning to stay with George the rest of the time.

Evie and I went directly from the airport to the motel, checked in (paying with a personal check) and unloaded my one piece of luggage. I imagine I washed my face and hands, and brushed my teeth (I still do that as soon as I get off a plane). We then ran out to get some fast food. At that time there was not a plethora of fast food restaurants as there is today, but there were McDonald’s, Burger King, Colonel Sanders Kentucky Fried Chicken, and some others. I am not sure to which we went, but my best guess is that it was Burger King (Whoppers and onion rings). I recall there being a lot of ketchup, which makes the presence of onion rings the more likely.

I remember picking up a six-pack of Budweiser (Today that thought shocks the heck out of me, because that was before "Bud Light." I can’t imagine consuming all those carbs!). I remember eating, drinking Bud, and making love (perhaps not in that order). Eventually sleep (stupor?) set in. We both woke up at about the same time—the Bud was gone, but the lovin’ wasn’t.

About 10 a.m. we decided to get up. I had got up early to use the bathroom, but now I was actually contemplating starting the out-of-bed part of the new day. I dropped my feet to the floor, right onto some food wrappers, which were wet with ketchup. But that is not all that I stepped on. There were thousands of ants marching in line and carrying little bits of last night’s food back to who-knows-where. …Thousands!

Evie had already got up and was washing her hair. I called to her, "Ev, toss me a towel, I stepped in some ketchup." She stepped out of the bathroom and tossed me a wet towel. I wiped off my feet, and jumped out of bed from the other side.

"We’ve been attacked by an army of ants. There’s thousands of them," I said as I walked to the bathroom. "I hate ants."

Evie said, "You’re kidding, right?"

"No, I’m not kidding. Maybe it’s in the millions."

She walked over to my side of the bed. "Oh my gosh, how can we kill them?"

"I’ve got an idea. You’ve got hairspray, right?"

"Yea, it’s in the bathroom," she answered.

I went in and got it, and walked over to where she was standing, observing the colony.

"Hairspray kills ants?" She asked.

"Sort of, if you combine it with a cigarette lighter," I said.

I looked around until I located my lighter. "The combination of hairspray and flame equals a blow torch—blow torches kill ants," I said.

I then surveyed the ants’ path. It extended from the ketchup, across the carpet, and all the way over to the baseboard under a window. There I discovered a hole. That is where they were going after securing their little morsels.

I went back into the bathroom to test my weapon of mass destruction. "Come in here, I’ll demonstrate it for you," I said to Evie.

She followed me in. I pulled back the shower curtains, lit the lighter, held it about six inches from the hairspray, and then pushed the aerosol button. It produced an amazing ball of flame that startled both of us.

Evie jumped back. "Could that blow up?"

"No. When I quit pushing the button, the flame stops. It’s completely safe, at least for us. It won’t be so safe for those ants, though."

I returned to the battlefield, sizing it up one more time. I wanted to accomplish my mission with one single, devastating attack. It took two nukes to bring Japan to its knees—I wanted to bring victory with one single bomb.

I pointed the can directly at the ketchup, held the lighter in its proper position, ignited it, and pushed the lethal button. The destruction was enormous. I kept the weapon blazing all the way to the window, and then extinguished it.

There is no doubt that I killed every ant in the room. However, that is not all I "killed." I killed a substantial section of the carpet. I wouldn’t have thought that the carpet was flammable. Perhaps it wasn’t. Maybe it was just that enough of the hair spray hadn’t burned up until it hit the carpet. Whatever the case, the floor was on fire. Starting with the ketchup-papers, and extending all the way to the wall, there were flames shooting up six inches or more.

I grabbed the wet towel I had used to wipe off my feet, and smothered the flames. Thankfully, there was not a lot of smoke generated (which lead me to think that all that was really burning was the residue of the hairspray, not the carpet). That is not to say, however, that the carpet was unscathed. No, that was not at all the situation. The carpet was ruined, at least in the area where the ants had been.

All the carpet fibers had melted and stuck together. Because the towel was already destroyed, I used it to try to get the carpet cleaned up. I was able to scrub off all the surface damage, using shampoo and bar soap, but when I walked over the area it felt like I was walking on broken glass. All the little melted carpet fibers would poke into my bare feet. "That won’t be too bad, as long as you’re wearing shoes," I said, mustering up a little humor.

We were ready to check out. So we packed up all our stuff.

Just before we left, I walked over to the killing fields one last time. "I’ll bet I get a bill for this," I said. We then picked up our stuff, left the room, closing the door behind us.

This "ant adventure" remains as one of the most embarrassing events of my life. But, Evie married me anyway. Some stories have happy endings.

I suppose I can say that due to that most wonderful of legal precepts—the ubiquitous "statute of limitations." Sure it would apply here. Right? If not, I deny everything.