Blog Swap

17 Aug
Hi everyone!
I recently entered a community for 20 something bloggers who are interested in interacting with other 20 something bloggers. One of the recent activities was called “blog swap”. Each participant was assigned a partner. My partner’s name is Ginny, and we had to write each other a summer related story, either an anecdote or something that made us think of summer. I wrote about my trip to Croatia. Ginny shared one of her childhood stories, and I would like to share it with you. Hope you enjoy it !
Summer is my favorite season.  Summer means trips to the beach, hiking in the mountains, camping, roasting marsh mellows and long days.  As a kid I spent most of my summer in the woods.  I went on family camping trips, stayed in vacation houses in New Hampshire and went to overnight camp.  All of this time spent out doors left a mark or two.  Poison ivy, bug bites, sun burns, twisted ankles, leeches, bee stings – you name it I got it (or it got me).
There is one incident that stands out in my mind more than any other.  Surprisingly it’s not the leeches.  When I was twelve years old I got attacked by wasps.  At the time it was a very traumatic experience.  Now I can tell the story and laugh.  I know, you’re probably wondering how this could be funny.  Trust me, it is.
My mother sent me to overnight camp for 16 days every summer.  I loved it.  The camp was strict but the counselors were awesome and I felt like I really bonded with my shack mates every year.  I was even voted shack leader in 1995 (I think I should add that to my resume).
Walking back from campfire required walking through the woods to get back to your shack.  There were no lights on the paths besides your flashlight.  As we’re walking along I hear one of my shack mates yell out “ow!”.  Then someone else yelled out.  Suddenly I hear the sound of bees and someone shouts out to run.  We all start running and screaming towards the nearest building which is a bathroom.  It is at this point that I get stung for the first time.  A wasp flew up my shorts and started stinging me on my inner thigh.  The wasps are in our clothes, those sneaky wasp bastards.  Now I know they were wasps because they kept stining over and over and would not die!  We start pulling our clothes off to get them out leaving a trail of clothing behind us.  We make it to the bathroom only to realize that the wasps are coming in every time the door opens when someone runs in.  We’re still getting stung in the bathroom.
We decide to make a run for the cabin which is further away from the direction of where the wasps came from.  We start running, most of us with just our undergarments on, to our shack.  There are still some wasps following us but it’s not as bad as the amount in the bathroom.  At this point we’re all crying and attempting to hide from or kill any wasps that have made it into the cabin.  I got stung multiple times from the wasp that flew up my shorts.  One of my shack mates is allergic to bees and although we have an epi pen we still have to get her to the nurse to bring her to the hospital.
Late at night, we’re sitting in the nurses station while she attends to our stings.  A few of us end up throwing up due to a combination nerves and toxins from the stings.  I was one of them.  I remember feeling sick to my stomach and I had the shakes.  The nurse made me stay in the nurses station because I kept getting sick.  Gingerale!  We were not allowed soda at camp.
We all felt much better in the morning.  All the other campers had heard our screams and had no idea what had happened.  We told our survival tale over breakfast while showing off our stings.  My shack mate who had to go to the hospital stayed over night and returned that afternoon.  We were all ok.
I wrote everyone to tell them about the incident.  My mother sent me cookies and told me how scary that must have been.  My grandmother on the hand wrote back “those poor bees don’t have a home!” Not exactly the response I was looking for grandma.
I hope if you’re ever in this situation that you’re wearing nice underwear.  Those wasps really don’t care.


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