The peace treaty is OVER. Following the great bee sting incident of 1993, wherein I sat on a bee, got stung on my leg and had to wait four hours to find a pharmacy open in Patra on a Sunday so I could buy antihistamine, bees and I had an agreement. While initially upon encountering bees the most appropriate reaction seemed to be running around, flailing my arms and screaming like a banshee, I later learned that the easiest way to indicate my harmlessness was to stop, drop and play dead. I accommodated them. And the bees knew this meant not to sting me.

You might recall that the Mission is suddenly rampant with bees. Well, on Sunday it came to my attention that, not only are they overrunning our neighborhood, they have a newfound aggression toward Dolores Park chilling enthusiasts. I was leaving DP after spending a few hours drinking Korbel and eating chocolate (unoffensive). I was enjoying nature and not bothering anyone. This, apparently, was really irritating to one particular bee that decided, FOR NO GOOD REASON, to land on my leg and deposit a stinger so gigantic that I didn’t even need tweezers to pull it out. What the shit did I do to deserve that?! Nothing. I would love to think the insect committed suicide on my leg and cannot harm another park goer but it’s not true. It is still out there and it told all its bee friends about you and it WILL come after you, whether you have it coming or not.

To be clear, there is no actual reward for catching the culprit, but our deal is off the table and it’s now open season on bees. I highly encourage you to find it and/or its buddies. Sting or be stung.