First Bee Sting Experience

On a hot summer day in 08', my seven NHA friends and I were at our recreational skatepark in Cottonwood. The skatepark was comprised of three ramps in this particular order: a Wall Ramp, a Pyramid Launch Box and a Quarter Pipe standing at 7ft high. All the ramps were constructed on a rigid basketball court that'll bounce your basketball left and right, instead of the usual up and down. Few of us made it a duty to always bring a broom and make sure it's in mint condition. It was probably the nicest thing we collectively shared, bought and paid for by one of the crew. In any matter, we are usually cheered on by bees that flyby to their hive inside an old building right next this court. Around high noon, we would sit underneath the buildings' shade to cool down, and these bees would check up on us, to see if we had any soda or water. It was nice not getting stung for our thoughts believed they were aggressive. They were just as hungry and thirsty as us. 

When things cooled down in the evening time, more kids from the NHA would come out to play basketball and other recreational activities. Although younger and shorter in stature, their immaturity with these bees alerted us to keep and eye out for our safety. There must've been 10 or more kids ranging from 6 to 12 years old and always someone crying in the bunch. Their aunties and uncles cussed us out from their front porch, thinking we were picking on them, but really, we were trying to do cool tricks and leave them alone. It was during these times I would noticed bees growing antsy towards a growing crowd of crying kids and louder noises. Few bees would bump into the kids' heads and one or two would get stung, leading to more crying. All these young hot shots worked up the courage to pile up rocks in their kangaroo shirt pouches and run to the hive entrance and throw rocks at them from afar.

The hive entrance was a small quarter-dollar sized hole three feet above the ground inside the building drywall. All these kids grabbed every rock we swept off the court and the smallest of the bunch grabbed a cinder block that was almost as big as him. One by one, in a singe file every kid ran by and hit the hole with precision and the last one of the crowd, was this small kid carrying his weight. We waited around the corner, and all we hear is a loud "BOOM!" followed by a raging "ZZZZ" in the air. Screaming in tears, this kid comes straight for us running for his life with bees everywhere above him. Every single one of us took our shirts off and violently flung it around above our heads protecting each other from the zipping "ZZZZZ." What seemed like an eternity lasted only ten minutes until we cleared the area. We all cried running home with no shirts on freaking out on small windy noises an loose hairs. A solid hour later most of us returned to the scene and noticed a lot of dead bees on the ground and we shared battle scars by taking out the remaining needles. We counted every single bee sting we could find and totaled 67 stingers in all fifteen of us. The small kid alone, we counted 28 stings and I myself only one in the stomach. It was a great time but we made sure to wear sweaters. 

Since this event, it took along time to rebuild those bees trust, but it was pleasant not having crying kids run around us. To this day they remain in the same location with a more solid entrance, but continue the same attitude towards passerby's. In conclusion, bee careful or bee ready to fly your shirts off in a moment's notice!