Get a reasonable distance away!

They also make mail boxes. 

It began with Groupon, itself a City Danger in its own way, where my friend Devin and I purchased half-off coupons for a popular kayak rental place on the Potomac.


For those of you imagining either the Olympic style of kayaking where you rush down gigantic waterfalls or the original style where you hunt seals on icebergs, don't. Modern urban kayaking is essentially for babies, akin in safety and intended demographic to those pedal boats you find at amusement parks. So, I was expecting our five hours to be a fun way to relax, see some excellent river views of the city, and get a little exercise.  

After we signed in with the boat house and donned our life jackets, we headed over to the dock, where I slipped into my kayak. My kayak was a bit shorter and more fidgety than was really necessary, which made me anxious. I am used to the giant yellow ones that look like they are made by Fisher Price (pictured! That's me in Pittsburgh in 2009). You could probably have a dance party in those things and not feel like you were even in the water. Just as I was thinking about asking for a different kayak, I see the following scene unfold: Devin puts one foot in his boat, puts in the other foot, bends to sit down, and, just as I am laughing to myself that it would be kind of funny if...., promptly capsizes the boat. 


As it turns out, it was not funny. I stared slack-jawed for a couple seconds at where Devin had been, then looked in disbelief at the attendant who was shouting "Swim Out!" to no one in particular, as the only person who could have benefitted from this information was not currently in a position to receive it. Devin resurfaced, white-faced, confused, and completely angry. The attended offered to get him a new boat that was longer and "less tippy-ish".  Devin said nothing. 


Later, after mourning the death of a much-beloved cell phone, we were able to enjoy some time on the river. Eventually, we parked the kayaks in a bank of rocks and went onto the shore somewhere in Maryland to, I don't know, explore the wilderness?  Devin was finding tennis balls that had washed ashore and throwing them at me, while I (a bit callously, considering Devin's recent loss) started texting and calling a friend to make dinner plans. What? It's not like this was the actual wilderness: We were in Chevy Chase, for god's sake. 


As I  wandered in search of Devin, who had run off somewhere, I hit a soft patch of ground and looked down to see I'd stepped in some sand where there were a bunch of holes. And then, ouch! Ouch! There were unseen things biting me, everywhere, all over my legs. I remembering emitting some high-pitched hybrid yell-questions, such as, "IT'S ANTS?! OW! WHAT'S GOING ON? OW? OH MY GOD, IT'S ANTS!?" Infatuated with my legs being on fire and weirdly indignant that I was being bitten, I just started stomping in circles. Devin was also being bitten, but seeing that I was useless, yelled in a mannish Eagle Scout Voice, "GET A REASONABLE DISTANCE AWAY. THEN, THEY WON'T COME AFTER US." I hadn't even thought of that. 


Devin said that as I turned to run, he saw that it was not ants, but flying insects that swarmed terrifyingly out of the ground in order to attack us, not unlike that scene in Pitch Black where Vin Diesel looks on as the flying monsters swarm out of their hives at dusk. Later, I discovered five bites that were painful and almost bleeding. Subsequent research on the internet has yielded no clues. We are leaning towards "biting midges", but I am leaving baby Pterodactyls on the table. 


We still have 2 hours of kayaking left on our coupons, and next time I am bringing DEET and an inner tube.