Swwaaarrrrm!!!!

The calendar may say September, but in my heart some days it's still August. Temperatures are starting to dip, especially in the mornings, but the increase of flying, stinging, pissed-off insects is a sure sign of Summer's last month. I've been fortunate these last few years to work at a company within walking distance of several eateries with outdoor seating. No matter how crushing the gray confines of my office get, no matter how down and troubled and in need of a helping hand I might find myself, friends like sunshine and fresh air are never far. Every day I can, I make a daring escape and enjoy sweet freedom for as long as possible.

Angry bees and yellowjackets congregate where there's food and food residue, and the tables along our favorite street prove irresistible to them. We may eat unmolested for a few minutes, but once the scent is in the air it's not long before one or two boldly get in our faces, and threaten to land on our food. I'm still waiting for the day a single bee carries off a meatball hero. On that day I will be very afraid. For the most part, I manage to keep still unless they get too bold and force me to move. My friend Rey usually screams like a woman and runs down the block flailing his limbs theatrically. I should clarify that I'm referring to the timbre of his screams, and not commenting on gender, especially since most women would show more fortitude in such a situation. And to be fair, there was an incident three years ago when a yellowjacket nearly landed on my lunch, and I fled with a microwave tray shouting, “They're AFTER my CHICKEN!!” Three years, and I've yet to hear the end of that.

Oddly enough, I've only been stung once, technically twice. I was 8 or 9 years old and playing on my lawn with my Playmobil® people. Nearby, I was the last thing on the minds of a pair of copulating yellowjackets. I meanwhile noted their presence and kept my distance, lost in the depths of a complex imaginary tale with subplots, superheroes, and serfs. At one point I changed positions and put my hand flat on the grass to support myself. I paused as my brain translated the burning sensation in the palm of my hand and the stings registered. I ran shrieking around the perimeter of my house several times, holding my wrist with my hand. To my Tom and Jerry perception of reality, my hand had doubled in size. Eventually I calmed down enough to let my mom put some ice on it, and saw the two points of entry surrounded by the stingers. In hindsight, I probably fared the best out of all involved parties. While my hand hurt for a few days, two lives had ended, potentially on the verge of bee-gasms. That's not the way I'd want to go.

Heading back to the office yesterday, we were discussing the insect invaders and Jerry joked about being able to command them. When I asked if he was Swarm, he surprised me by not recognizing the reference to an old episode of Spider-man and his Amazing Friends. After all, he WAS a writer at Marvel. I sometimes forget how old Jerry is, that when I was still READING comics back in college, he was already writing some of the ones I was buying. As for Swarm, I remember that episode airing prior to my own encounter with those yellowjackets, and it definitely scared me. A being composed entirely out of bees, that only droned its name(“Swaaaaarm! SWAAAAARRMMM!”), seemed terrifying and unstoppable. I often feared the bees in my yard coalescing into a humanoid form and chasing me. Reading the episode synopsis and listening to the sound clip on the page I linked to, I imagine I'd find it pretty cheesy should I see it again today.

It's too bad the bugs haven't adopted our calendar system and still follow something as archaic as the weather. It'd be nice to eat lunch outside on a gorgeous day without worrying about a battle with the swarm.