Warning....Ahead

This sign was at the entrance of an area we explored. I made mention of it as we drove past it.

Me: "What does that sign mean? What are those things? Are those bees? Or flies? I can't tell what they are, but that is certainly a dire warning. Are they rampant in this area? So much that we shouldn't exit the truck? I'm a tad worried about this. I didn't Google first aid for this type of creature."

We decided they were bees due to the striping on the body, and because I had a friend who raised bees, used to help her extract the honey, and once wrote a research paper on bees, so I got out, assuring my relatives I was well versed on the insects--leave them alone, and they won't bother you. Well, unless you're slathered in soda or something sweet, then they might try to pollinate you.

BIL: "But are you versed in killer bees? I think those are different than regular bees."

Me: "I'm not afraid of killer bees either. Bring them on!"

We walked, posed for pictures, and enjoyed the mountain and the beauty. We welcomed the breeze and then made our way back to the truck.

Tom's sister took a detour to visit the bathroom down the hill, and because I believe when one sees a toilet in the middle of nature, one should use it, I tagged along. Nancy made mention of it most likely being a "hole," but I had seen the building, and it had four walls and a roof, and that was good enough for me. I followed her down the sidewalk, across the parking lot, and down to the little restroom.

As we came around the corner, Tom's sister told me to go first. She claimed to have a stomach issue and made it sound like she was doing me a favor by offering up the first use, but as we got closer to the doorway and noticed the huge amount of buzzing bees flying in and out of the opening, I suspected she was using me as a guinea pig.

But I had already made the above proclamation about not fearing bees, and so I hopped into the outhouse like it was nothing and shut the door.

The noise inside was overwhelming. Please, click on this link and hit play because this was the exact noise in that bathroom, and actually, the video is pretty true to life, give or take a few bees. The shack was a wooden structure built in Little House's days, complete with gaping holes that let enough light shine in, so I got a good grasp of the room.

In the middle was the "hole." Over the hole was a plastic, scratched toilet seat that needed a good wiping down with antiseptic wipes, a can full of Comet, and several sponges. The odor was that of a porta-potty only without the deodorant cakes and scented pine strips, and the noise was everything in the movies or on television or in that video regarding killer bees.

The noise was deafening. Bees were everywhere. Flying. Buzzing. Looping. They were on the walls. On the roof. In the rafters. Mainly, they were in the "hole," flying up and out and out and in. They swarmed the "hole" like flies on turds, and it was like a scene from a horror film, and I the idiot that the viewers yell "Don't go into the house!" at when she arrives home in the dark to find the front door wide open. And just like that idiot, I went inside and proceeded to do my business--because I am a middle-aged, menopausal, fat girl with a bladder that needed emptying. 

Who knew when I would get another chance? But mainly, I went because I was not afraid of bees and made it perfectly clear to my husband's sister and brother and mother. I could not back down now. 

So, I pulled down my pants, covered my hands in toilet paper, and held my body inches above the nasty seat. Up until this point, my bladder had been on vacation mode, that mode where concentration plays a big part in expelling? Yeah, not now. Now it was like I had turned the knob, and the liquid poured. I peed like a faucet, amongst the sounds of buzzing wings and killer bees. Flying in and out, around my head, and through my legs. And as I peed, I prayed.

Me: "Dear God, please do not let any killer bees take advantage of my position. Please do not let them be annoyed at my stream. Please do not let them venture up into my precious, sensitive body parts. Please do not let them do any severe damage that will warrant my OB/GYN BIL to provide medical care to me so soon after his 60th birthday party. And please do not let me drop my phone. Amen."

Or something along those lines. In my head. Because my phone was in my mouth.

And as I dangled, precariously on my shaking, only-skinny-portion-of-my-body arms holding up my overweight torso over the "hole," I realized that I needed to record this moment because this would be a great entry for my blog! But I knew I couldn't balance on the one hand and take a photo, so alas, there are no photos or recordings. You'll just have to take my word for it.

I was in and out in record time with zero bee stings, and as I exited the bathroom with killer bees circling my head and body, I felt like a Superhero that had survived the worst apocalypse, complete with every villain known to man. I smiled at my SIL and said:

Me: "I do believe the sign we saw was for this bathroom. Those animals are killer bees. Good Luck and God Speed!"

And when, hours later, we saw the sign at another area of the park, coincidingly not far from another wooden four-walled structure, and someone in our group inquired as to what the heck those insects were on that sign, my SIL and I assured her they were killer bees and we suggested she water one of the many Joshua Trees in the park instead of entering the bathroom.

Because there are only so many Superheros in the world, and Nancy and I are two of them.