Poquoson, VA. Summer. Hot. I was in third grade. Kids could still play outside without getting kidnapped. My parents loved having us out of their hair, so "go out and play" was something Anne and I were used to hearing. A lot.
One day I jumped on my bike to cruise around and meet up with friends. We tooled around for hours until it started getting dark, which was always the signal to head home for dinner.
Now, I don't know about you, but I'm a mosquito magnet. I walk out in the morning to water the flowers and walk back in the house with bites all over me. I go out at dusk to water the flowers and walk back in the house with bites all over me. Even when I spray myself down from head to toe, a few always find their way to my lower back, under my shirt, through my pants, under my pants. Then, once the biting's done, humongous welts appear and I look like a freak. It's a losing battle I'll never be able to win until I become a girl in a bubble.
Anyway. I was hauling ass on my bike and both sides of the street had huge ditches. I don't remember it being a place prone to flooding, so I don't know why they were there. But they were.
I felt a little stick to my leg. Then my arm. Another. One more. Multiple. I pedaled faster. I saw the bloodsuckers sticking their stingers in me. My legs looked polka dotted. My arms looked small pocked. I started swatting. One hand on the handle bars, SLAP! Swerve. Furrowed brow. SLAP! Stop looking at road. Never saw mosquitoes that big. Screamed. Tassels flying (on bike, not me). Bike a pink blur. THWACK!
Suddenly, my bike was on a death path. I was headed right for the ditch, but I was so determined to kill as many mosquitoes as I could, I didn't stop the bike. I went straight down the steep side of the ditch, getting completely twisted in the metal and spokes of my bike. I was a wreck. Sweating, panting, scratched up, afraid my parents were going to be pissed for my reckless behavior. And then I realized I was still blanketed with those goddamn insects.
I hopped on my barely working bike and started pumping the pedals like a competitor in the Tour de France. I know I cried, partly out of humiliation and partly out of frustration. At least my parents just felt sorry for me when I got home. Maybe it was the grass, welts, mud and blood smears all over my body.
For the next week people thought I had a deadly mixture of chicken pox, measles and elephantitus of various body parts. I thought no way could another insect encounter ever rival this one. Then I met the beetles.
South Carolina. I was a junior in high school. My parents always stayed up until Anne and I got home, no matter what time it was. Well, my mom did. Dad usually hit the sack and slept well, even through our arrival home.
One night I was out with my boyfriend and supposed to be home already. Who knows what we were doing, probably making out somewhere or goofing around with friends. I was maybe an hour late and only the outside light was on in the front of the house.
"Cool," I thought. "For once no one's waiting up for me. I can sneak in and sneak right into bed without getting busted."
I pulled back the latch on the car door, got out and closed it behind me. It was masterful. Nearly inaudible. Then, I started tiptoeing toward the front door. The closer I got, the more bewildered my facial expression became. What the hell was all over the screen door? Brown. A little shiny. A lot of them. Wait, is that flying? What the ....
They were beetles. Tons of them all over the screen door because of the outside light. I stopped dead in my tracks. Should I make a run for it and plow right through them? Sneak up as quietly as possible to avoid disturbing them?
I chose the latter. I kept tiptoeing until I reached the door. I was so grossed out I almost threw up, but I reached for the latch anyway. It was my only way in. I had no other options.
CLICK!
As I pushed in the button, a really loud CLICK reverberated through the entire door. All at once every single beetle took flight and went straight for my long, curly hair. Well, just as you'd expect any other girl to react, I screamed bloody murder at the top of my lungs. I ran all over the front yard with my head bent over and my hands shaking out my hair. Beetles flew all around and crawled all over me. My mom shot out of the house and started swatting at them, half hitting me for being late. It was a scene, especially for some of our nosier neighbors.
If I was going to stay out past my curfew in the future, I'd have to come up with a much better plan ... So I measured my body to see if it would fit out my bedroom window.
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