Imagine this scenario: you’re a high-school student and you decide to attend an exhibit that houses horrible poisonous spiders and radiation generators. Hey, that right there must be Fun ‘N Good Times City. I know I’d be the first in line to buy an admission ticket to get all the free sterility-causing rads and arachnid bites all over my body.
Being Peter Parker, you decide to:
A) stand right under the radiation emitter, and
B) have the stupidity to stand still long enough in a room full of spiders to let a big ol’ hairy eight-legged biter land on you.
I know if I was in a room jammed packed with goddamn arachnids with fangs, even if they were behind glass, I’d be turning to every person nearby to yell, “IS THERE A SPIDER ON MY BACK?!?” In fact, I do it every so often when there’s no spiders around just to make sure none are crawling on my back. Those eight-legged abominations make me scream like a terminally frightened mountain goat, be they radioactive or not.
And then after Peter Parker gets bit by a radioactive spider in a room full of left-over Chernobyl equipment, he decides to go home and “sleep it off”. Dear GOD. If it had been me bitten by a radioactive spider, I’d be hauling myself to the emergency room screaming my fool head off.