thupid beeth

The other day, I was cycling to work as part of the Bike Commute Challenge (last year, we came in 3rd in our division; this time, we’ll get those overachievers down the road at IBM!). I bike every day anyway, but the Challenge, coupled with the mostly-sunniness of September in Portland, was an excuse to ride all the way instead of just biking to the train station by home.

As I turned off of Murray Road to the treed underpass in the last quarter-mile, my face was in its customary open-mouthed grin. (It’s impossible not to smile on that breezy, sunny downhill!) The wind carried a hapless bee right into my mouth. Yeth, really!

Bees on a Bike

I spat the poor insect to the side of the road and wondered if she got me. My tongue probed around in my mouth a little. Yup, she got me. It felt like eating a raw jalapeño, and it tasted—it’s hard to describe this, but it tasted exactly what you’d guess a bee sting would taste like: kinda sweet, and kinda sting-y.

This was my first ever bee sting, so I pedaled to our security building and asked ‘em to take a peek at my tongue. It was definitely swollen, but not too much. That welcome news, along with the non-alarming blood pressure, meant that I’m probably not allergic to bee stings. Just to make sure, though, they drove me to a doc-in-the-box down the road, where I was pronounced alive and told to get my lazy ass back to work.

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