Bee-Stung

When on a bike, and reaching the top speed of twenty miles per hour, then upon passing under the low-hanging vines of flowering honeysuckle. Keep the chin down. Let me explain.

In 1996 the movie Jerry McQuire hit the theaters. Immediately I was drawn to Renée Zellweger’s squinty eyes, squeaky voice, and as one article I read put it, ‘bee-stung lips’. I thought this phrasing was not just perfectly accurate but sexy as hell. Until today.

Here in Arkansas, the honeysuckle are flowering and the distinct aroma permeates the air, especially along bike trails. Honeysuckle is beautiful crazy invasive, but the bees love them, and on approach to some low-hanging honey suckle, wind whipping through my ears, the furious blur of black, yellow, and fuzzy sped like a rocket toward my face. It was at this moment I thought about Renée’s lips. Suddenly the idea that being stung on the lips by a nectar-drunk bumble bee was decidedly NOT sexy at all.

I could swear, this particular individual of the Genus ‘Bombus’ weighed at least two pounds. While I didn’t get Zellweger’ed on the mouth, this black and yellow chunk of flying meat smacked the side of my shaded eyewear and immediately exploded. Viscera sprayed my left ocular and most of my face. Pulling my handle-bars sharply to the left I came close to hurling myself into some wild blackberries, which would only complicate my situation, as they are flowering also. Somehow, I regained control, and with my legs pumping the pedals, I squeegeed the remains of ‘pollen sucker’ from my face and continued on.

Life is kind of like this. Sometimes, you have to dip your chin and power through a difficult situation, and even at that, you may have to scrape the guts of an uncomfortable encounter, but one thing I can be sure of, is it’ll always make a good story and at the very least an enjoyable rest of the ride.