Bee Careful

Sometimes bugs - bee-kinds of bugs - make me nervous. I'm sitting quietly on a bench, minding my own business at a small airport on a humid afternoon right outside of Tamarindo Bay, Costa Rica. I notice a small waspish sort of insect buzzing around next to me annoyingly. Eventually it buzzes directly at me but - smack! - I'm too quick for the little jerk and I knock him away.

Now, after the first swat, I'm convinced I have instigated an emnity of sorts between myself and the bee. A gauntlet has been thrown, war flags are flown in the gentle, tropic breeze. From now on, when the bee approaches I am sure it is out to get me. It hovers, waiting to strike and I hop and flail to avoid giving it a stable place to land. If he gets the chance, gently alighting on my knee or shoulder, I'm caught, frozen. Well played, my little friend.

Slowly, time ticks by as I sweat it out, waiting for the the bee to make a move. He crawls about in circles, my eyes riveted to his wiry body until the wind scares the devil away once more. I grasp about for a book, a shoe, my brother's ipod, and strike with deadly precision. Scraping the slimy bug guts from the shiny face with "copyright apple computers" engraved on the back. My brother grumbles.

"Now you've just angered it's family."

My smile falls. I have only won the momentary battle. I discreetly cover the bug body with my purse to hide the evidence. They can't pin anything on me - It was self defense!

Now I'm really scared.