A Wasp in the Crotch

 In late summer and fall, various species of social wasp turn into an unemployed bunch of mean drunks. With next year's brood bedded down, and fallen fruit fermenting, not to mention unattended drinks at the last cookouts of the year, workers whiling away their last days have nothing to do but look for sweet things and sting people.

Before that they may aggressively defend the nest. Last summer seemed particularly bad for the number and hostility of wasp colonies.

What does this mean to the cyclist? Road cyclists may travel near flowering plants where bees and wasps come and go. Off-road cyclists not only encounter these insects buzzing about the forest and field, but might encounter a ground nest inconveniently built under a trail feature. And that brings us to your shorts.

Over the course of half a century of bike commuting, I have taken more than a couple of wasps or bees up the shorts. I probably took in that many in my first year out of college. In 1979, my commute was roughly 14 miles each way, with a very enjoyable stretch on St. Margaret's Road headed out toward the Chesapeake Bay Bridge from Annapolis, Maryland. Honeysuckle grew thickly along parts of that. Because I wore either touring shorts -- basically hiking shorts with a chamois -- or classic black wool shorts, the leg fit was not snug enough to exclude a stinging insect I might accidentally scoop up on the way by. Fortunately, those hit the outside of my thigh on the right side. It didn't end well for the stingers. To stop the attack I had to pinch them in the cloth and then shake whatever was left out the bottom of the pant leg.

Canvas shorts are harder to sting through, should the wasp hit the outside of the fabric. Difficult but not impossible. The old wool shorts wouldn't stop anything. Lycra likewise presents no barrier at all to an angry hornet. However, modern pads, more elaborately engineered than the old chamois, do protect the most vital areas from direct attack. As poorly as Lycra armors against nearly anything, the heavy pads in most shorts now include a front section conveniently located to deter angry insect stabs. That's not its purpose, but it serves the purpose.

Yesterday, coming into Wolfeboro on Center Street opposite Whitten Neck Road, I was enjoying the curve in the road along a stone retaining wall, heading into a welcome short descent when I felt the burn of a wasp sting on my inner right thigh, what I would call the event horizon of the crotch, not right up in the junction, or the junk. I swatted it away, but it had already struck.

Riders who prefer street clothes or baggy cycling shorts, be warned. Long inseams might move the entry point down the leg, making wasp entry trickier than hitting the exhaust port in the utility trench on the Death Star. But someone did hit that. Fiction, I know. But there's always the real-life example of the HMS Hood, blown to smithereens by one lucky shell from the Bismarck in 1941. Long shots still have a shot.

My commuting setup includes a waist pack, which serves not only as extra carrying space but also as my light bar for rear-facing blinkies. Because of this, any undesired arthropods that fly in through the top zipper of my jersey can't just fall out the bottom. That has led to a few stings and crushed attackers over the years. I have to unbuckle the waist strap on the pack, shake the remains of the insect out the bottom of the jersey, and re-fasten the pack, usually while still riding. Who wants to stop? Not only that, stopping and putting down the landing gear takes time and exposes me to a longer attack by the irate and perhaps not yet deceased wasp.

As I researched this topic, I found many stories of other riders who have been stung, including on the head. A wasp in the helmet can be a real disaster, even if you aren't officially allergic. I'd already heard stories from motorcyclists who took one through the raised visor of a full-face helmet. I tie a bandanna underneath my helmet, which might serve at least to confuse a wasp. Maybe it will like the upholstery and feel like napping instead of attacking.

Riders who scorn helmets might chuckle at the self-created hardship of helmet wearers in this case, but you could just as easily get stung in the face.

Days later, the area of the sting still itches as the venom dissipates. Over the next two mornings, I gave the wall a wider berth and kept my knees even closer to the top tube than usual.