Bees: nature's violent killing machines.

I am being completely serious. There are not many things in this world that really scare me, but bees are ABSOLUTELY one of them.Sharks? Not a problem. Get me a cage and let's go diving. Dinosaurs? Sign me up for a trip to Jurassic Park. But bees? ABSOLUTELY NOT.

I have always had a problem with bees, ever since I can remember. I recall going on a picnic with my school in elementary (and this must have been early elementary, since this happened in Oklahoma), and a bee landed on my back. I was so terrified, I couldn't do anything! Well, that's a lie. I could do two things: I could do a nearly-perfect imitation of a statue, and I could weep softly. I was rull good at that.

You would think that things would change as I grew older and more worldly. YOU WOULD BE WRONG. So very wrong. Way back in 2005, when I was a freshman in college and our campus was still infested with bumble bees. I was walking back to my dorm room from class one lovely spring afternoon, when all of a sudden I looked up...and there it was.

The Bee.

Not just any bee, mind you, but the BIGGEST EFFING BEE I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE. It was flying in a doorway, lazily roaming about the place, trying to make sure no college freshmen crossed its deceptively wan path. I thought to myself, "ya know? I've had a good run. I bet I can get around this monstrous leviathan." So I stupidly attempted to duck to one side of the bee, but sensing my moves, it swung to the left to block my path. I was NOT going to be bested by a bee, so I tried to maneuver to the right, but the bee was too wily for my tactics, and blocked me again. Not to be outdone, I tried a right-left fake, but the bee was just too good. Defeated, I slunk off to walk the long path around to my dorm.

And yes, I am aware that bumbled bees do not sting. THAT WE KNOW OF. Probably anyone who's ever been stung by them has just vanished into a puff of terror and pain.

My bee troubles don't end there. After several years without a significant encounter with one of God's Stinging Menaces, I moved to Korea about 4 months ago. I knew there would be difficulties associated with a new country, new language, and new customs. But one thing I did NOT expect was a sudden resurgence in my life of BEES and their various Evil Stinging Counterparts (wasps, yellow jackets, hornets, Satan, etc). One day recently, I was in class teaching some elementary students, as is my wont, when a bee decided it would make our classroom its new home. I, blissfully, did not notice it immediately, and was alerted to its presence by a student shouting "Teachuh! Teachuh! Buttahfry!" I looked up, expecting a lovely butterfly to be flitting about the room, but ABSOLUTELY NOT. It, of course, was a terrifying bee, lurking about the fan, trying to decide which one of us to murder.

"OH HELL TO THE NAW!" I exclaimed. "You need to get the HELL out of my classroom, bee!" I pleaded with the bee to quietly exit the classroom, but to no avail. The bee was intent on remaining. I was in the process of mentally deciding which child to sacrifice as a peace offering to our new Bee Overlord (yes, Dahae looks pudgy and delicious!), when one of the students stood up on the desk, and with ice in his veins and nerves of steel, bravely shooed the bee outside. Crisis over.

But it's not just my kids I routinely embarrass myself in front of. I also gave a glimpse of my ridiculous fears to my coworkers while we were hiking a few weeks ago. My coteacher and I were lagging behind with a few other teachers, enjoying the scenery, when one of them spotted a woman selling honey. Delicious! I love honey, with absolutely no trace of irony whatsoever! So we decided to go check out her wares. I got about ten feet when I heard the sound. The evil sound. The buzzing of a thousand bees no doubt plotting the destruction of humanity for our wicked ways. With terror in my eyes, I begged off, insisting that I would stay and wait for them to return (if, indeed, they ever would return). Concerned, my coteacher asked me what was wrong, and I was forced to admit that I was indeed terrified of the creatures lurking just atop the hill. Probably controlling the poor honey woman (whose skull has likely been converted to a beehive in which they store their evil queen), luring unsuspecting hikers to their certain doom.

I'm not sure how much of my legitimate concern was lost in translation, because my coteacher gave me a look like I was some crazy escapee from One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest.

Those of you who know me know that if I am anything, I am a respect-commanding figure. And I think you can see from the photos in this blog what a truly intimidating person I am. But there is nothing - NOTHING - in this world that will strike paralyzing fear and induce such paranoia in me as those effortless murder-bugs, the bees.

Except commitment. AMIRITE, LADIES??

PS apologies to Josh, who just wrote a similar post, and Meg, who will write it shortly. We were all having the same conversation/devising a bee-emergency action plan together.