Now that it is solidly not winter, the change of seasons brings a new assortment of delightful occurrences. For me, the beautiful summer days means an excruciatingly hot drive in the minivan in the middle of the day.
And then, there was trouble.... Let me set the scene.
It was a Monday - a hot Monday - and I had driven home for lunch because I wanted to plant all of my beautiful flowers and vegetables that I had received for Mother's Day. On my way back home, I was driving with my windows down and enjoying the day when, suddenly I heard a loud buzzing, two thumps on the passenger-side window and felt something drop on my shoulder. It was horrible, it was a flying bug and it was on my back.
I am extremely phobic about flying insects and can often be found running away from flying beetles, junebugs, fuzzy bees, cranky wasps, fast grasshoppers, moths, mosquitos, aggressive butterflies, low-flying birds and those insane-looking giant mosquitos that are probably not mosquitos. I also hate the little spiders that float through the air from tree to tree that end up in my hair.
As such, the thought of having a fat bug sitting on my back while I was driving made me almost drive off the road.
I am not proud of this.
I am a grown woman and it took everything I had to not freak out and crash the car. I managed to deep breathe my way into the parking lot safely and I deliberately parked across from other people because I knew that I needed help.
As I got out of the vehicle, I peered carefully over one shoulder - nothing.
I peered cautiously over my other shoulder to discover a bumblebee clinging to my shirt.
I like bees and I thought at one time that I maybe should have an apiary. Then I remember that I shudder when I hear buzzing and I gently let that hobby go back into the furthest reaches of my mind. When I found the bee on my back, I was not thinking of beekeeping but of getting this creature off of me.
So I ran towards the hapless strangers in the parking lot yelling: "Can you help me? There is a bee on my back!" The young man looked a little shocked but he agreed to help me. He brushed the bee off of me and then we both watched it fall to the concrete dead. He said, "Aww poor little guy," and then he walked away.
I said, "Thank you!" to the disinterested man and went on my merry way.
I got the impression from the man that I was more than a little hysterical and that he cared more about the dead bee than my panicked fright. I persevered and was not stung. Some days that is considered a win. In penance for my accidental bee-killing, I will plant a bee-friendly perennial and hope that the bees avoid my van from now on.
