Girls’ Camp was delightful–a lot of hard work, but delightful.
My duties (jointly shared with “L” of “CL,” who just so happens to be a dear friend of mine) were mainly to entertain the girls. Every night on stage, we dressed up as Kim and Aggie from “How Clean is Your House,” and regaled the audience with tales of atrocious bedding, stolen cabin windows (ours was missing when we arrived at camp, which proved to be great ammunition later on), and kamikaze insects.
I’m sure you would appreciate hearing the account of everything that happened at camp, but probably most things wouldn’t be as funny, since you don’t know who I’m talking about when I write, for example, “Vonda is so sneaky–she stole our window right from its frame!”
But there is one story universal enough to share on my blog:
“The Scariest Thing of My Life”
“Cut it out, you stupid fly,” I muttered. But the fly only inched closer to my head. I swatted and swatted, to no avail: the insect seemed determined that its goal was my head.
Just as I was going to abandon my book and head for the hills (or at least to the mess hall for lunch), I heard a final “buzz,” felt a tickling on my right ear, and then I died.
Or at least, I wished I’d died. Because That Kamikaze Fly was in my ear, buzzing and tapping on my eardrum for all he was worth.
According to medicinenet.com, “insects can…fly or crawl into the [ear] canal. Usually this happens while sleeping on the floor or camping. This is often a frightening and dramatic event as the insect’s buzzing and movement is very loud and sometimes painful.”
Okay. To describe the experience of having the Kamikaze Fly in my ear canal as “frightening and dramatic” does not even come close. It was paralysing. And then, after I stopped being paralysed, it was vomit-worthy. And then it became immensely stressful. The witnesses to the occasion said I was quite amusing, smacking my head with all my might like that. And when smacking the right side of my head did not work, I tipped it sideways and smacked the other ear.
But still That Fly would not leave. He loved being in my ear where it was nice and warm, (if not a bit violent). He loved it so much that he did a little jig on my ear drum, and it sounded something like this:
“Tap-a tap-a tap tap tap tap TAP TAP TAP TAP TICKA-TAP TICKA-TAP TICKA TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP THUNK TICKA TAP THUNK TICKA TAPITTY TAPITTY TAP!!!!!!!!“
(I’m sorry for the foul language, Poor Kyle, but I tried lots of other words to describe That Fly, and none fit quite as well. Please forgive me. And think how I feel. I had a fly in my ear.)
Finally I gathered my wits enough to scream “B!!!” (another name for “L” of “CL”), which, directly translated means, “I hate to bother you, but this insolent kamikaze fly will not exit my ear canal, which causes me great strife and his little jig is not helping, and for the love of Pete get over here I need you!!”
She came to me, good friend that she is, and made me stop flailing about like a crazy person (which I totally was by that point). She pulled my ear back, and watched as That Fly creepity-crawled sheepishly out of my ear (and the mental image of a fly creeping out of my ear still makes me want to kill myself a little bit).
She said that as the little bugger surfaced the light of day, he paused, looked at her with all his eyes and said, “Whoa. I’m sorry, lady, but your friend is nuts.” And then he took off for greener pastures. Or less angry humans.
Afterwards, I discovered I’d hit my ear so hard and violently that it was bleeding inside. Blood, of course, makes me pass out. My whole face was swollen the rest of the day, but the camp infirmary supplied me with a capful of rubbing alcohol to ease my worries.
It is an experience I hope none of you ever have to suffer.