On being deathly afraid of spiders...not me

I was sitting at my desk at work, when I saw the most tremendous thing.  Imagine what a gazelle would look like, a partially retarded gazelle, if it was in fact a reggae fan, trying to play hopscotch.  How it would jump and jive and, I don't know, wail.  That is what my co-worker looked like when she spotted a spider descending from the ceiling.  I'm not a fan of spiders personally, never have been.  This week they have punctuated my life in several instances.  I killed one with a hair spray bottle yesterday.  I found one in my hair the night before.  I murdered a large on in my shower not five minutes ago, but being stricken by their very presence is not something that I am accustomed to.  Laura is and that's interesting.  In the presence of spiders she cannot conduct herself like a normal person should.  In front of an audience composed of her work peers she was rendered completely helpless by a small spider.  How is that possible?  When  and how can we all experience that particular kind of humility?  In death?  That's the only way I can imagine it.