the bees hate me
May 15, 2009
You know how you never seem to have the cameras rolling when you’re attacked by a swarm of bees? That’s so annoying.
You know what else is annoying? When your wife and 14 year old son make endless fun of you for being attacked by a swarm of bees. I mean, have they ever SEEN a swarm of bees? Or even more than just 2 or 3 bees in one place? I say No.
Elden was there IN the swarm of bees with me. You don’t see HIM making fun of me for running away from a swarm of bees so thick the sun was blotted out from the sky. This was wrath of God, biblical plague kind of stuff.
One second we’ve just climbed Clarks, and we’re heading across the saddle to climb to Jacobs, and the next second the sun is covered with a million sentient pieces of shrapnel, and we’re being pelted as we ride through. Kim asked me “um, didn’t you see them? Why did you ride into the swarm?”
Well, in retrospect, I can see how that question makes sense.
But in the moment, it went like this:
1. Just riding along.
2. Attacked by a swarm of bees.
3. Jumping off my bike and rolling around in the dirt trying to get them off me.
I realize that’s not a great explanation. YOU try getting attacked by a swarm of bees and then rationally explaining it.
I had enough trouble getting off my bike and rolling around trying to get the bees off me. Elden, in whom the bees seemed strangely uninterested, helped me swat at them, after we got out of the swarm. Apparently only a few of the bees were of the fully Africanized variety, because I was only stung 3 or 4 times, and only one of those stings presented any risk of actual death, or at least very heavy itchiness and some mild swelling.
Now that I’m not actually being pursued by the swarm, and can breathe and think normally again, I can see that maybe they weren’t entirely Africanized. They may have just gotten stuck in my jersey.
But I’m pretty sure they attended some Africanized bee training camps. Which we should totally bomb with cruise missiles. Today.