Wasps are more than angry, stinging jerks
In my opinion, I was minding my business on Saturday evening, just happily hanging a pool vacuum thingy against the side of the garage.
A swarm of wasps that was setting up a condo right where I was hanging that vacuum thingy saw things differently. They sent one minion out to let me have it. And he did. Or she did.
Wasps are terrible creatures. I’ve been stung a few times. Last summer I was mowing the lawn and rolled too close to an underground wasp lair. Stung!
As a kid I was trying to get my beach ball unstuck from a snowball bush when I inadvertently irritated a wasp. (Also, “I was trying to get my beach ball unstuck from a snowball bush” is in the record books as the dorkiest sentence ever written.)
On Saturday, it was hanging a pool vacuum thingy that got me on the wrong side of wasp nation.
Each time I got stung, it was the same thing. I’m going along with no idea there is a basketball-sized nest housing thousands of angry, buzzing things mere inches away. Then I feel like I’m being pinched. Then it intensifies. Then I look at the area and there is a little bug going berserk on me.
These wasps mean nothing but business. They are mean and when they get their stinger into you, they look like they are grinding and twisting it for maximum pain. They are very good at what they do.
I am not an insectologist but I am going to advise you against getting stung by a wasp. In fact, don’t get stung by anything.
Wasps are remorseless stingers because they don’t die when they sting, like honey bees do. Honey bees would have to see you as a major threat before sacrificing themselves in defence.
Wasps sting because wasps — I’m just going to say it — are spiteful little jerks.
I know, I know. Wasps are living creatures and all living things are a gift and should be respected. They pollinate and eat other insects and blah blah blah.
According to so-called experts, wasps don’t sting just because they’re spiteful little jerks. Wasps sting because they are threatened or agitated — on top of being jerks.
Seriously, wasps? Like, calm down. You’re like little Bill O’Reillys with wings.
At the very least, I’d like to see wasps communicate a little better. Talk to me. Don’t escalate right to the stinging. Give me a fly by.
OK, fine. So if you don’t follow my advice and you go out there and get stung by one of these so-called wonders of nature, what do you do now?
In my nonexpert opinion, when you identify the source of your intense pain as a wasp doing its wasp thing, I suggest you begin flailing body parts toward the area. Hands, legs, feet, anything you can throw at it is helpful.
Simultaneously, run for cover as fast as you can while screaming something truly ill thought out. A string of curse words that have never been heard back-to-backto-back-to-back is always good. Or just one, solid, sharp curse is acceptable too.
When you are confident you aren’t going to puff up like a blowfish due to allergies, it’s time to think.
I was home alone when I got stung. I texted my wife to let her know. I figured she would rush right home. She did not — but she did tell me to text her if I stop breathing. I decided if it came to it, I would use my last gasp dialing 911 instead.
Also, while waiting to see if I was allergic to wasps, the thought did cross my mind that I might, though unlikely, have new superpowers as a result of a radioactive sting. I do not.
Experts say the next best thing to do after a sting is to clean the area and apply ice. You can use anti-itch cream and overthe-counter pain relievers or antihistamines as needed. But I find that plotting your revenge also helps.