“That little sh*t got me right on the forehead.”
I’d like to say I stated that calmly as I observed what had just happened to me. But as you can probably tell from my language, that wasn’t the case.
Let me set the stage.
It’s Saturday morning, roughly 9:45 am in Scottsdale, Arizona and I’m on my second lap of hiking Camelback Mountain. That’s right, I am climbing this sucker for the second time this morning- training for the Grand Canyon, you know.
I’m sweating. I’m so sick of being hot. Have you ever been to Arizona in the summer? Or even the Spring or Fall for that matter? It’s hot. Like always. And I’m sick of it. And of climbing this damn mountain. I know, I know, I chose to do this. But I can still complain, can’t I? Don’t tell me you’ve never set out to do something and then realized you didn’t like it and complained the whole time…
But I digress. I’m hiking. I’m huffing and puffing. I’m doing that thing where you use your arm to push off your thigh to keep your legs going cause they gettin a little wobbly. And I’m wiping sweat away for the millionth time this morning. Are you with me? Do you feel this? Did you hold your breath a little too? I need you to feel my pain.
And then, by god, if I’m not also flailing. There’s a bee. Not a big one. Not more than one. No big deal. But it won’t leave me alone. It’s encircling my head. And I’m hot, remember? That doesn’t exactly help me stay cool and collected (get it 😉 )
So instead of being a normal person and just letting the bee be curious for a bit and go on its way, I flail. And make it mad. I mean, it’s pizzzzzed (lol, get this one?!) Am I the only one having fun here?
No. The Bee is too. Cause he knows he gonna win this one.
He dive bombs me, I fall to my knees, literally, trying to escape him.
It works, kinda.
He doesn’t get me, but he’s close, like real close, he’s stuck under the cap of my baseball hat. The flailing GETS REAL. I’m trying to whip off my hat, swat it away, turn my head, and hold onto this damn rock to keep me from falling all at the same time.
But there’s this dang messy bun on my head stopping my hat from coming off and now I’m just making the bee more mad as I move the hat around swatting at it.
So it does the only logical thing it can think of to stop this madness.
It stings me.
Right between the eyes.
My inner beast comes out and I yell and swat it away one last time, with meaning.
Now it’s gone, but he’s left his mark. I can feel my skin swelling and burning. And, oh, what’s that? Mmm, that would be sweat dripping into my new wound. Nice.
I sit on the rock with my hat hanging off my head caught in my ponytail. Rubbing my forehead. Still a little jumpy that he will return, with friends.
A fellow hiker passes by, gives me a strange look as I rub my face, and says in a thick scandinavian accent, “a bee?!”
I look up at him trying to look more put together than I am and reply, “yep, that little sh*t got me right on the forehead.” He smiles a little bewildered look on his face and continues on. I begin to readjust my hat. Onward and upward as they say.
So what’s the lesson here, folks? It’s this: Go outside and you will get hurt. Don’t do it. Stay inside. Stay safe.
…ok you know I don’t believe that. But I do believe you should read the signs that have been posted warning you about different dangers in the parks you are enjoying. They are there for a reason. Don’t be like me and ignore the bee signs that were posted everywhere. Or those signs about squirrels. Or the need to bring water. Or to stay on the trail. Or give X amount of distance to the wildlife. Listen to those signs, they are there to help you.
And remember that exploring means taking precautions. And that mother nature always wins. Bee prepared (see what I did there 😉 I’m on a roll!). And more than anything, remember that going on an adventure sometimes doesn’t go exactly as you planned, that’s ok, learn not to sweat the small stuff.
…did you get that last sweat reference? Ok, I’m done. Bye.