When I was 5 years old, we went to a party at a family friends’ place. They had this giant homemade slide in the front yard. I wandered down there to play, since no other kids had showed up yet. No sooner had I climbed to the top than a buzzing began roaring below. Wasps came up from all sides of the platform and began to sting me. I hastily slid down and started running back up the hill towards the house, where the adults promptly stripped me down to my underwear. Spreading baking soda paste on my body, they counted the stings.

Remarking that it’s a good thing I’m not allergic to stings, one man proudly proclaimed “12 times!” Ever since, I’ve been deathly afraid of bees and wasps, with the sole exception of the bumblebee. I think they’re like the elephants of the bee world- large and loud, but gentle at heart. Fuck wasps, though. They can burn in hell.

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