One day, the highlight is a conversation of art, life and what's it all about (see previous post). The next day, the highlight is almost swallowing a hornet. Yikes.
Almost. I mean, we're sitting on a bench, sipping ginger beer, reflecting on a beautiful summer day. A "sit-down" in the middle of one of our rambling bike rides on the lakefront.
The cicadas are buzzing. The trees are swaying in the breeze. And yes, there are a few bugs buzzing around our heads. We have been forewarned.
I take a cold, refreshing sip of ginger beer, and I can feel something on my tongue, something foreign, something alive. Yikes. I have an immediate, instant, reaction. I spit out the mouthful of liquid onto the ground below. At my feet, there's a little, soggy hornet, soaked in ginger beer. One wonders if he feels like he hit the jackpot of sweetness and sugar, or does he too, realize he almost got swallowed into the gaping maw of death?
He staggers away into the grass. My friend conjures a dire picture with words: "You could have swallowed that hornet. He could have stung you. You know a hornet like that can sting multiple times. He could have stung your tongue, your throat, stinging you all the way down. Who knows, maybe you have a bad reaction, your tongue blows up, your throat swells, you can't swallow, you can't breathe, you turn blue, I have to call 911, the ambulance comes to get you... I mean, oh... my... goodness..."
I reflect on the scene of mayhem. Scenes of my life pass before me. Life. It's a funny thing. I realize I've dodged a bullet, instantly, luckily, escaped an existential threat. Shite. Just sitting on a bench, sipping a ginger beer, so innocent, so unaware. Danger lurks, even in a simple sip, the stinger is just a sip away. Everything hinges on one word. Almost. Yep. Almost did. But didn't...