As I pulled into the parking lot one warm day in late May, we were excited for a beautiful day in the woods. Getting my wife out was a rare treat, and meeting some friends for some good exercise before we drank ourselves silly that night made it even better.
My wife, dog, and I were ahead of the other car, so we pulled into the spot and chilled for a bit to wait. With the car running, we noticed a few of the enemy beginning to saunter over to size up their breakfast. This did not go unnoticed. I became apprehensive about leaving the car. Not one who is generally considered a whimp, I nonetheless had some serious doubts if this was a good idea. The more we waiting, the more scary it got. Is this really something I wanted to subject my family to? We were surely not going to make it out unscathed. Would the scars be permanent...either mental or physical?
Eventually, the other car pulled in. They hadn't seen the commotion yet, and the quickly hopped out of their car as soon as it was in park. Oh, the horror! The enemy redirected their forces to my friends, and attacked with abandon. Hitting from all angles, their blood curtling screams must've been heard miles away. There was nothing we could do. However, we decided to make a run for it. We quickly grabbed out stuff from the trunk, laced our boots, and took off down the trail. Even with the distraction, and our cat-like quickness, we were hit, and hit hard. Our friends caught up soon after, and the shocked looks on their faces said it all. It was hell they had been through, hell indeed. We quickly gained elevation and picked up a breeze. The mosquitoes wafted away.