I was assaulted by a bee today.
It was my lunch break. I had left to get a sandwich, and it was a nice Autumn day - especially warm-feeling after a week of windy cold. So I stopped at a table in the gardens by my office, anticipating a relaxing lunch with a book I wanted to finish.
I settled down at the table, spread out my picnic, and opened my book. A few minutes later, I looked up and saw I had a visitor - a large bee was circling my sandwich. I recognized this bee from other times of attempted picnics in that area, and I told it to buzz off, knowing it wouldn't listen to me. I swatted the air around it, hoping to coax it into thinking a breeze was carrying it away, but it was determined. After a few send-offs from me, it disappeared and I hoped victory had come my way, as I returned to reading.
But Fate is capricious, and though she seemed to be on my side at the start of the day, I found her suddenly turned against me.
The bee returned.
I may as well have been trying to keep separate two powerful magnets, in dissuading the bee from seeking my sweet sandwich. They would not be parted. After a few dance moves on my part, and likely a few intrigued glances from distant neighbors at other tables, I gathered my belongings, and I left the table, looking back to confirm the bee had been left behind. The worry that I had accidentally swept up the fiend with my food was one I wanted to dispel quickly; my fear was unfounded, though, as I saw the bee flutter in the air near the table as I walked away.
I had a nightmare once when I was a child, about a swarm of killer bees coming after me, attacking me. It had only been a dream, but I've been weary of all bees since then. Though I had left this bee behind, it would not leave my mind. I found my appetite somewhat diminished as I sought refuge from the enemy.
Moving almost halfway across the courtyard, I stopped at a bench that was devoid of surrounding flowers and plants - just the place to hope for a quiet, bug-free lunch. I settled down again, pulled out the rest of my sandwich, and set my book next to me to be picked up once I finished eating. I hoped to eat somewhat quickly, just in case.
But bees are not the only demons that prey on picnickers.
As I sat looking at the fountain in front of me - the water had just started spraying out after a worker had finished unclogging its drain - a gray squirrel scampered near my bench. It bounced from place to place - and then stopped. A few feet from me. It looked up. Then it took a few steps, and remained a few feet from me.
And then it took a few more steps.
It crept closer.
The squirrel was clever, and not one to be caught in a trap. It was also not one to be too aggressive, knowing the danger of being too obvious. It twitched from side to side, slowly creeping up on me, not daring to move too quickly.
My first impression of goodwill toward this animal was quickly replaced by anxiety and surprise. Already feeling on my guard towards nature in general, I was not excited to fight another animal for the right to eat my lunch. I stomped my foot to shoo the squirrel away, and it jumped back a few steps, but did not leave. I looked at it, and it stared at my lap. I stomped again, extending my foot a little further, and it jumped back again. We maintained this stand-off for a bit, as I tried to get rid of the prize with faster bites.
Soon, however, I tired of the harassment this creature inflicted on me, and I stomped my foot even closer to it, and it jumped back even more, then ran under the bench and I watched it run to a nearby tree, and then a further off bush.
I finished off the sandwich, put the wrapping in my paper lunch bag, and finally picked up my book again to try to enjoy a fraction of my lunch break still. I had only made a dent of two pages in my reading, and I wanted to know what was about to happen!
But the book would have to wait for another lunch break - mine was being forced to end right then.
The bee had found me.
It came up quickly, buzzed right past me, and settled into a circle pattern just above my Orange Crush drink next to me. With a grunt of shock, I retried my previous efforts in flicking it away and shooing it gone.
It would not be pushed aside.
The bee bounced between my drink and my lunch bag, searching for the sweet smells it felt sure were exotic flowers from faraway lands. This poor bee was undaunted in its quest for the scent it had locked on. And it was driving me crazy.
So I gave up. I packed up my book, grabbed my purse, my lunch bag, and my drink, and began walking away, checking like last time that I was not carrying the bee with me. I was going back to my office, leaving a failed lunch break behind me.
I glanced behind me, and I received the confirmation that I had not trapped the pesky bee in my bag - but I also had not left it behind. It was hot on my trail, sometimes scaring me by disappearing near my hair or on my jacket. I couldn't be sure where it was, and I increased my speed to distance myself, just short of jogging - my pride kept me from letting the other picnickers nearby watch me run from an unseen attacker.
The nightmares of my childhood had become real life. I brushed at the air around my shoulders as I walked, waved over my head to clear myself from the bee's possible presence. I stopped looking back, only trusting that the concrete building's cold, lifeless atmosphere would persuade the bee to continue no further with me.
As I got close to my building, I felt confident that the bee had been left behind in the gardens, likely seduced by the scents of real flowers as we breezed by them. I returned to my office, relieved but grumpy. The beautiful day had been destroyed in my mind. Nature had ruined nature for me this day.
Finishing my lunch at my desk, I promised myself I would not be kept again from eating outside on beautiful days by such a tyrant as this bee. I had met this bee before, I realized, as I recalled a lunch weeks ago that had also been cut short. It was the bane of my lunching.
This bee has thwarted my happiness two times now, but I will not let it conquer anymore.
Our third meeting, Bee, will see me as victor of the gardens!
