Last summer, I was fortunate enough to go on a trip of a lifetime with my oldest daughter, Hannah. 

Hannah had gotten her SCUBA certification the previous fall, and I was excited to finally go diving with her. SCUBA is one of my most favorite experiences in the world. Preparing to dive can be cumbersome and physically taxing above ground, but once I get down underwater, it’s freeing—I feel a sense of wonder and privilege, as if visiting another planet where I don’t belong. 

But it is an expensive and high-maintenance hobby. It has been hard to fit it in over the years. So, I was thrilled to sneak away with my daughter to a SCUBA diver’s dream location: Roatan, Honduras.

Like many people, I had never heard of Roatan before my very exhaustive pre-trip research. It’s not a large Caribbean island, but it's a SCUBA diver’s mecca. Roatan is the largest of the Bay Islands and sits directly on the Mesoamerican Reef, the next-largest barrier reef in the world, after the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. 

A dream trip
We stayed at an amazing place called Tranquilseas Eco Lodge and Dive Center, and it was literally picture perfect. A small, boutique-type lodging that sits right near the beach, it had everything we could want and need: Helpful staff, an onsite-restaurant that was nothing short of amazing, and ideal accommodations.

The tropical style, individual buildings have large rooms, beautifully tiled bathrooms, and porches you can dry your gear on. But maybe don’t leave your mesh dive bag out overnight. You may take home more than just your equipment—more on that later. 

The diving equipment and boat were steps away, adding an ease and stress-free nature to our multi-day diving experience. Dive after dive, we spotted with delight all of the animals one can expect to see near a healthy Caribbean reef: Sea turtles, eels, lobsters, stingrays, plume worms, and countless colorful coral, sponges and fish. 

On our second to last day, Hannah and I braved a night dive, and my more-than-30-years of waiting was finally over. I got to see one of my most favorite animals—an octopus—and it was GLORIOUS. 

While octopus are usually hiding and difficult to spot, this one was completely exposed—slowly and effortlessly gliding across the rocks. We all tried to do the same: Breathe slowly and try effortlessly to control our buoyancy and limit our movement, so as not to scare her away. 

I was mesmerized and grateful; it was just the icing on the cake for what had already been a picture perfect trip.  Little did we know, however, that one of the most memorable events of our trip would not occur until after we arrived back home.

Unexpected guest
For our trip, Hannah and I had to check our large, red suitcase with enough room for our dive bags and gear. Upon returning home very late on a Friday night, I left this bag in the small hallway at the top of the stairs. 

Later the following afternoon, I finally had the energy and motivation to deal with unpacking and cleaning off the dive gear in the large bag. I proceeded to unzip and flip open the suitcase top. My gaze was immediately drawn to a small, pinkish-whitish creature on the top of the folded contents.

I quickly and instinctively flipped the suitcase top down again, not wanting to face what I thought I had seen. 

My mind started trying to figure out what else it could be: A shrimp perhaps? I stood there for a few seconds, unsure what my next move should be.

I decided that I needed someone brave to confirm what I thought I had just seen. While my husband and teenage son were also home, the obvious choice for this particular potential problem was my travel partner, fellow creature lover, and expert identifier, Hannah. 

I reluctantly called downstairs, “Hey Hannah?  I know you are really tired, but I need you to come upstairs to help me with something. Right now please.” 

Hannah came upstairs, and I warned her about what I thought I had seen in the suitcase. She did not think it was possible. 

While she slowly and bravely started to lift open the top of the bag, I squeamishly backed up a few feet away into the bedroom doorway across the small hallway. 

Hannah was just as confounded as I had been upon the initial sighting. But she confirmed confidently what I already knew I had seen. 

Whether it made sense or not, we had traveled back from a small Caribbean island to Shaker Heights, Ohio with a scorpion.

Getting to know you
Hannah the Identifier (and, conveniently, a lover of all things creepy crawly), immediately started looking up scorpions living on Roatan. 

As we suspected, scorpions are rare but have been seen on the island. And just in case you’re about to look it up, you will find that there’s a disturbing lack of information on the Internet about Roatan scorpions. 

Fortunately, the scorpion was not moving, nor was it showing any signs of life.

Dealing with a stowaway
I took a picture, and then Hannah carefully approached the creature with tweezers to see if it was alive or dead. Much to our dismay, the scorpion quickly scuttled away after being touched.

Hannah quickly zipped up the suitcase, lest the stowaway escape into our home. It was a warm and sunny afternoon in Shaker Heights, so we decided the first logical thing to do would be to put the suitcase outside. 

We approached the suitcase, one of us at each end so we could carefully lift it up while keeping it in its current horizontal position. In a coordinated effort, we treated the suitcase as if it was made of a fragile and breakable substance. 

Although we were now on land, we found ourselves once again breathing slowly and oh, so carefully to control the movement of our bodies—afraid of disturbing our unexpected visitor. 

Limited options
With nervous sweat, we eventually made it down the stairs, outside the back door, and we cautiously lowered the suitcase down onto the middle of the driveway. 

Some otherwise intelligent people in our lives had several suggestions on what we should do next. 

“Maybe just drive over to Shaker Lakes and release it there.” or “Take the suitcase to the backyard and just leave it open and eventually the scorpion will crawl out and probably die.” 

While Hannah and I would never entertain those options, we also had already learned that scorpions can live up to a year without food and water, and we knew we had to kill it. 

“Why don’t you boil it like a lobster,” someone suggested. 

But more quick research revealed that boiling scorpions in hot water doesn’t necessarily kill them quickly because of their exoskeletons. It turns out that the fastest and most humane way to rid Shaker Heights of the scorpion was a good old fashioned hammer smashing.

News of the exciting stowaway situation had spread to our teenage son and several of his friends who happened to be over playing badminton in our front yard. They had now gathered in the back of the house in the driveway around Hannah and the scorpion-containing suitcase. 

Her weapons of choice were tweezers (to grab the scorpion from the suitcase) and a hammer. 

She said, “Mom, you’re going to need to take a video of this!”

None of the teenage boys offered to help. They were shirtless and barefoot and provided quite an audience of curious and incredulous onlookers. 

None of us were ashamed to admit that we were grateful that Hannah the Identifier and Lover of Creepy Crawlies was bravely taking on the mission.

As Hannah opened the suitcase to face the now agitated and alert scorpion, her initial attempt to grab it with the tweezers resulted in the scorpion scurrying (quicker than expected) to more hidden depths of the full suitcase! 

A squirrelly and frustrated game of hide and seek ensued while onlookers tried to predict and tell Hannah where in the suitcase it had run. 

Just for the record, they were all wrong (as was discovered in the video footage carefully watched later by my youngest daughter, Zola). 

Hannah slowly began removing items out of the suitcase to see if she could shake the scorpion out of its hiding spot. 

It was a frustrating couple of minutes, but she eventually spotted it, grabbed it, placed it and smashed it. 

We felt bad for the unsuspecting scorpion, who earlier might have been simply exploring our hotel porch near its Roatan home, was looking for a dark, damp place to hang out.

Obviously, the scorpion belonged in Shaker Heights, Ohio just about as much as we belonged 40 feet down under those Caribbean waters. Luckily, that octopus didn’t have a hammer.