Most of our favorite stories involve a near miss in some way or other, and often there is an underlying theme.
Alcohol.
I know I expressed in an earlier blog that the time to jump into an alligator farm is not after imbibing your weight in liquor. But, how else would these things happen? I mean, how else would one try to steal the giant fiberglass chicken off the top of Chicken Hut, in full view of a highway? How else would one find themselves in the nuclear reactor of the university, waking up later with two (stolen) left protective boots? How else would one “come to” while driving a golf cart through the woods, at night? (This particular friend checked himself into rehab the next day, so, sometimes close calls are good). These stories are just a few I’ve been told. At some point in time, we stop doing these things. We grow up and know our limits and feel responsible enough to stay within them, mostly to avoid embarrassing visits from the neighbors and/or police. Supposedly.
Last summer I visited some close friends, ones we don’t get to see enough of. As our friendships were founded early in life, so we tend to think our earlier ways of imbibing are a given; we start early and continue, throwing caution to the wind. The first thing our buddy pointed out to us was to avoid going near the electrical box in the back of his garden, as it was harboring a nest of wasps. We took note, and the kids mostly avoided it or ran very very fast through the back. We shared stories and laughs and a stellar you tube video, of a dude with a thick southern accent that had recently beheaded a rattlesnake with a sword. The snake’s head then turned to bite its own body, annoyed. This was as fascinating as it was disgusting, and brought all sorts of questions to mind, as in, why does this guy own a sword (for snakes, I guess) why is he filming this, and is this the first time he has done this sort of thing, and where does he live so I can never go there? I can still hear his drunken drawl,
“Go ahead snake! Bite yo-self!”
You tube is a fascinating and scary place, and can be very funny if you have enough whiskey. It can also be a source of information if you want to get rid of some wasps. After a few wasps-almost-stinging-people-to-death-after-nest-removal-is-unscucessful videos, we were emboldened to do the same. Some of us, anyway. My husband generally practices better judgement in many events, such as this one. “You guys go ahead,” he tells me, as I start to don protective layers. Our pal provides gloves, thick jackets, bandanas. We are going to take these little Effers DOWN.
The plan?
One of us will insert a vacuum hose into the outlet area, while the other shovels dirt around the hose, sealing off any other exits. Of course, we had to wait until they were asleep, which meant staying up even later (and drinking more).
Foolproof, right?
We snuck into the (very dark) back garden and set up our gear. I was on shovel duty, and I readied my pile of dirt. I could see a flash of light from up on the porch, as my husband yells out, “Its too far away for video!” which is hilarious, as he was actually going to video it. We too, could be as famous as snake-head guy!
On the count of three, it was going to happen.
One, two, three!
…And I was piling dirt on and the vacuum switch was flipped and then…a steady stream of THUNK, theunk thunk thunk, THUNK. It was actually working! We might not even need to be dressed as polar explorers in the summertime, our plan was perfect! When the clanking and thunking died down to nothing, we turned off the vacuum, sealed the end of the hose with duct tape, and packed more dirt in around the box. We did it! It was awesome, and exhilarating, as in, it could have gone so horribly wrong! I followed my buddy up the small backyard hill and then watched in slow motion as he tripped and pulled the vacuum off its cylinder… both pieces flying apart.
“RUNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!” He yelled, and I have never run that fast in that many clothes before. I could hear my husband laughing somewhere far away, but I was around to the front of the house before I could start myself. When we were safely inside, we howled. That was a perfect plan, except for its execution. Except for the unknown factor, or perhaps the known one: we were drunk enough to try, but not sober enough to pull it off.
The kids were sleeping peacefully, unaware that their parents are idiots.
The next morning and many Tylenols later, we checked the vacuum. It held approximately ONE dead wasp. We think there could have been a few more, but upon reflection, thought perhaps the nest was way, way down inside the cavity, and we were sucking up chunks of dirt instead. That or they were too dizzy to fly out and sting the crap out of us, which they easily could have done. Either way, we got lucky. And I vowed not to do anything so incredibly stupid again, at least until our next visit, which is a few short weeks away.