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I'm My grandpa used to work as a stevedore over in Savannah, and he'd tell us all kinds of stories from his time on the job.

Like one time, they got a whole shipment of bananas from the Philippines or somewhere,

and back in those days,

they'd transport the bananas still attached to the big old branches that they grew on.

They'd pop the crate, and then carefully pull the bananas out wearing real thick pairs of gloves,

and they wore those gloves because of the tarantulas.

The tarantulas didn't eat the bananas, but other smaller creepy crawlies

would, making the banana branches a prime feeding ground for them. Most of the time, the workers

over on the other side of the ocean would do their best to get all the bugs off their produce.

But every so often, a tarantula would tuck itself away among the bunches after getting its fill of bugs,

and then survived the entire transit process from whatever tropical islands that they were from to the ports of the United States.

My grandpa said that one time he was working with this guy popping crates of bananas,

when the guy started to get a little

too comfortable. He starts getting slow, talking when he should have been working, and then the

next thing, Grandpa's turning around to see this guy's arm deep in a crate, but looking back at

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