Back in the early 90s, I took a buddy up to Colonial Lake to do a little bass fishing. The fish weren’t cooperating, and we headed into the head of the lake where the creek channel feeds in and where the cypress trees become far more abundant and more closely spaced. My Buddy looks back and tells me he’s severely allergic to bee stings and he does not have his epi pen and we need to be careful around the trees. Ok. No biggie. Never hit one before. Well, as we motor with the min-Kota thru the trees heading to the creek channel, the wind decides to kick up hard and push us toward a tree. I gun it trying to prevent it…which I did…but that sent us nose first right into a different tree.
When we hit that tree, at least 2 dozen paper wasps absolutely swarmed my Buddy. I’m throwing it in reverse and backing up as fast as it will go, because I knew I was going to have to do CPR while driving for the bank. I shit you not, it looked like the freaking Matrix in the front of my boat. Todd was swatting, ducking, gasping, doing some crazy side to side shit, and ducking and swatting some more, and in a few seconds, we were clear and the wasps gone.
So, I know exactly what you looked like in that box blind. Congrats to you and Todd for pulling off what I would classify as “the impossible.” Those jokers usually don’t miss when disturbed.
“I can’t wait ‘till I’m grown” is the stupidest @!#* I ever said!
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