I saw Bigfoot

One thing you must know about me: I am not crazy. Ok, you may laugh...that's ok. I may look crazy, sometimes act in ways that may seem crazy. But I am not in any way, shape or form a crazy person.

Why this preamble, you may ask? Well, what I am about to say (and the title of this blog) may make you think that I am crazy or maybe if you are a bit on the sensitive, understanding side, that I am not "all there" or that I may have been dropped as a baby. No, none of that is true. I am very practical and rational (don't judge me on the basis of my blog), and am not crazy at all.

Now for the story, and please keep in mind that this is a true story. If you don't believe me you can go to http://www.bfro.net/ and you can read my report there as well.

When I was nine years old (and may I remind you that I was a perfectlly normal 9-year old girl, not enrolled in learning disabled classes even though they didn't exist then), we lived in Fort Myers, Florida. Our house was next to a canal in a nice little neighborhood of middle-class houses near a very densely wooded area.

In the ways of yesteryear, my younger sister and I shared a room with my grandmother. My bed lay along a big, picture window with frosted glass and there was a streetlight outside that shone in all night. I had gone to bed and lay there thinking God knows what (the spelling bee the next day, whether or not a little boy named Marshall liked me or Janet better, whether they would have mashed potatoes in the cafeteria tomorrow...).

All of a sudden, I felt heavy footsteps outside. It's weird, but it was like in Jurassic Park when T. Rex is coming at them and the water in the glass moves with every step. I remember that I froze, I was so scared that I could not move my body. I lay there as the footsteps came closer to my window. I heard a low, painful moan. It wasn't human, it was like the sound a hurt animal would make. Whatever it was walked past my window casting a huge shadow in my room. I remember calling out to my sister in a low whisper, "Elena?" My first thought was that she had heard and seen all this and was probably scared shitless. I sat up in my bed, she was asleep. So was my grandmother. I remember sitting there a few seconds, and then I got up and ran into my parents' room.

That night they had to give me a tiny piece of a tranquilizer pill to make me stop shaking. Any self-respecting Cuban mother always keeps a supply of tranquilizer pills (because you never know when something like this can happen) and my mother was no exception. I finally dozed off.

This experience changed my 9-year-old life. I had been until then a happy, friendly, outside-loving little girl. Since that day I could not go outside without feeling that I had to be on the lookout for that thing that had gone by my window. I didn't feel safe anywhere, not even inside. I started biting my nails to the quick. I also threw up a lot.

One day after about two weeks, my father made me get on my bike and ride to the end of the block ALONE! I cried all the way there and back, certain that I would be attacked by Bigfoot. Nothing happened to me that day, but I was sure that the next day something would happen.

I begged my Dad on a daily basis for us to move somewhere. After about six months we moved to Buffalo, New York, thank GOD! I started behaving like my normal self there (albeit with huge fur coats, mittens and boots).

Nothing like this ever happened to me before or after that episode. I am not a sleepwalker, I do not "imagine" things or ever did for that matter. I never got night terrors before or since. I really did experience this thing.

So, believe me, Bigfoot does exist.