Fear Itself (Vespa Mandarinia)

Last Monday evening, upon returning home from work, I set about dusting my apartment. Because I'm Alice Nelson like that. Upon entering my computer room, however, I was surprised to discover a large black wasp flying about. This was actually the second such incident in just over a week. I still have no clue how they got in, but needless to say, seeing as how I sort of have a bee sting allergy, the univited pest was greatly unwelcome.

I say that I "sort of" have a bee sting allergy because after my initial reaction when I was eight years old (an amusing adventure recounted here), I was for the next 6 years or so gradually desensitized, through regular doses administered via hypodermic needle, to the stings of most venomous flying insects: honey bees (which I was barely allergic to), yellowjackets (which I was acutely allergic to), hornets, wasps, etc; and it was eventually determined that I was no longer allergic, though I was cautioned that, despite many years of desensitization, were I to be stung I might still have a life-threatening reaction.

So I really have no idea whether I am currently allergic to bee-stings or not; I've been lucky in that I haven't been stung for a very, very long time (knock on wood); however, in a way this has only served to compound my uncertainty and increase my fear of one day having to find out whether all those years of needles filled with bee venom made a lick of difference.

My three biggest fears are 1) flying 2) vomiting (the streak is currently 14 years: longer than Jerry Seinfeld's) and 3) getting stung. Of the latter, I believe it's perfectly natural, since from an early age it was instilled in me that a bee-sting could KILL ME.

This was before the days of the easy-to-use EpiPen; what I had was a "kit" consisting of a dose of adrenaline, a hypodermic needle, and a tourniquet. My parents and doctor tried to instruct me how to self-administer a shot, but, really, isn't that asking a lot of an eight-year-old? I could barely kick a soccer ball straight; how in hell was I expected to give myself a shot of adrenaline should the need arise? I would have learned to use an abacus faster than learn how to properly inject myself with a syringe.

Of course, now that I'm older, if I were stung I'd calmly get myself as quickly as possible to a hospital; but since allergies in Korea -- particularly mortally dangerous ones -- are looked upon very skeptically, I hope I can be forgiven if I am a bit cynical in regards to the outcome of such a scenario.

All of which is to say that I hope my readers will sympathize with me when I state that the wasp which was flying around, trapped inside my apartment, immediately aroused in me a great deal of fear -- nay -- terror, and that I perhaps may have overreacted a tad. I'm not saying I shrieked like a teenage girl at a 비 concert, but I may have.

I managed to collect myself a little, though, and when the detestable insect flew out of the computer room and into my bedroom, I fetched a can of Raid from a kitchen cupboard and went after it. It flew out at me from behind the bedroom wardrobe and I sprayed at it, but missed. Wisely, I believe, I employed a stick-and-move strategy, and realizing that the wasp was far from incapacitated I hastened into the TV room, hurriedly closing the door behind me. But I couldn't remain there forever, and, due to the unbearable heat in that room, after less than a minute I gathered my courage and readied myself for Round 2.

Not a second after I opened the door did the wasp fly straight at me. I parried its attack, again took aim, and sprayed at it. This time my aim was truer, but I was not convinced that I had delivered the wasp its death blow; and apprehensive to wait and see whether the thing was stunned, I jumped out of the room and closed the door.

My thoughts immediately ran as such: I don't think I hit him well enough...if not, how long does it take a wasp to die of starvation? For I was not prepared to face off with the no doubt provoked thing again that evening. My pulse racing, I resolved to play the waiting game.

But it was my old man who postulated that it could take longer than a week for the wasp to die of starvation, and I was faced with the realization that, sooner or later, I would have to open that door and see whether or not the thing was truly dead.

Tuesday was a holiday, and the door stayed closed the whole day. But never did my fear abate. On Wednesday I resolved that I would, before leaving for work, open the door: when I returned home that afternoon I would know, hopefully, whether the wasp was dead or not.

That was not an inviting prospect. I dreaded returning home, and actually considered taking a hotel room -- and I probably would have were it not for the fact that I had with me no change of clothes. I mention this only to illustrate the extent of my fear.

When I did return later, a very curious thing happened. While ascending the stairs leading up to the 2nd floor landing, I made a point of checking the walls and windows; I often will find an insect or two of varying species there, usually harmless things such as millers and other kinds of moths, but occasionally a wasp or hornet will alight there, and due to the events of the past two days I was anticipating such an occurrence.

I was not wrong. Resting on the landing's windowsill was a wasp identical to that which I had trapped in my apartment's TV room. I walked past it, trying to keep my cool, but when I got to the door and went to retrieve my key from my wallet, the wasp flew towards me. I don't say "it flew at me," because, had its intention been to attack, there is no way I would have gotten out my key, unlocked the door, and stepped inside in time. As it was, though, I barely made it inside before the wasp followed me past the threshold. I slammed the door and breathed a prodigious sigh of relief, though still mindful of the wasp inside.

I never did find that worthy. Who knows, perhaps it's hiding somewhere, biding its time, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. I'd like to think that it's lying dead somewhere in a place I don't have the ability to search. Regardless, both theories stimulate my sense of mystery. That wasp has for me become a sort of Jimmy Hoffa.

As for the wasp outside, after checking every possible inch of the apartment for Wasp 1, I grabbed my trusty can of Raid and took care of Wasp 2. Eager to correct past mistakes, I made sure I got him with a direct hit and watched (cautiously, mind you) with my very own eyes as he at first flew about pell-mell and finally dropped to the floor, dead.

I thought then that, finally, the nightmare was over. But I was deceived.

Today at three o' clock, realizing that there was no food in my fridge, I got dressed and planned to make a trip to E-Mart for some hot dogs and SPAM. As soon as I closed the front door behind me, I again surveyed the 2nd floor landing -- and that is when I saw It.

At first I thought it was a cicada or a caterpillar. On the landing's floor was a very large insect...

I say, I believed it to be a large yet harmless creature; but after I closed the door and took one step down the stairs, the thing revealed itself as the winged monstrosity it unquestionably is. Buzzing like no insect I've ever heard (it sounded like electric barber's shears), the abject thing took flight, its wingspan as wide as I can stretch my thumb and forefinger. For all the fear imposed upon me by the aforementioned wasps, this new threat doubled, then trebled, my horror.

I was face to face with the Asian Giant Hornet (vespa mandarinia), the largest and most dangerous hornet on Earth. Only once had I seen it, a few months prior while on a neighborhood excursion with my wife and daughter. Then, I was struck by its sheer size: its body roughly the length and circumference of my own thumb; now, I was paralyzed with fear. I was within a meter's reach (if that) of the devil himself. Almost like a hummingbird, the wicked creature reared up. It was then that I regained my senses and hastily ran back inside.

I again grabbed my can of Raid (I'm becoming a bona fide gunslinger with that shit), and, because I don't negotiate with terrorists, opened the door a crack to see if I couldn't hit that nasty fucker with my best shot. I found it sitting not 3 feet from me on the wall to my immediate left, its folded wings resembling a pair of scissors.

My aim was true: I remembered the face of my father, and for what must have been a full 3 seconds doused the devil with bug spray. It didn't budge. Wisely, I think, I didn't stick around to see if it would, for it is said that even the strongest pesticides have little or no effect on the beast.

And what do you think I saw when, 10 minutes later, I opened the door to examine the aftermath of my salvo?

The thing had disappeared like Michael Myers in Halloween.

Laurie Strode: What's the Boogie Man?

Dr. Sam Loomis: As a matter of
fact...that was.