There are days when I just have to shake my head and wonder what in the world is going on. We are in the midst of a home stand meaning that the Arizona Diamondbacks are at Chase Field playing a three-game series against their divisional rival the San Francisco Giants and then will host an interleague series against the Boston Red Sox. Fresh from a road trip where the Diamondbacks went 5-1 against the National League East and a win in last night’s first game against the Giants; I was in great spirits and didn’t think anything could disrupt that. Boy was I wrong.

As with every game, I take one of the family with me to Chase Field to attend the game. Tonight happened to be Trina’s turn. That meant that our daughte’s Tiffany and Whitney would be home along with our son Dakota. Given that Tiffany is 17 and Whitney is 13 we felt pretty safe leaving the kids for a few hours while we enjoyed a baseball game. We gave the kids some last minute instructions before leaving the house letting them know what there was in the house for dinner and making sure they had our cell phone numbers but only to call if it were an emergency if the game had started. We went out the front door and headed for the car. Everything seemed completely normal. This was a routine we followed 83 games a year. I got on the Interstate and headed for Chase Field. As we pulled into the parking garage where we always park, my cell phone rang. It was Whitney. She called and I could tell she was a little upset. She stated that there was a swarm of bees in front of our house and that they could not get out of the front door. Dakota was across the street and wasn’t sure how he was going to get in the house. Being a father of 4 daughters I learned long ago that bugs and girls rarely get along. This was also having an adverse affect on Dakota as he wasn’t the bravest 9-year-old boy I had ever seen. So when they say a swarm of something that usually means 2-5 bugs. I sighed and wondered whether I would ever get the girls over these kinds of pointless fears. I suggested that perhaps they could use the back door to get out of the house and that a couple of bees definitely wouldn’t hurt them. I reminded Whitney of the first rule of scuba diving, “Don’t forget to breath” then hung up shaking my head. At least she called before we got into the stadium so I didn;t have to deal with that during the game.

Trina and I walked to Chase Field and went down to our seats. This time Trina’s cell phone called. It was the neighbor across the street. She was frantic and stated that there was a swarm of bees in front of our house and the kids could not get in or out of the front door. Trina said we had talked to Whitney and knew about the situation but that a couple of bees wouldn’t hurt them. The neighbor cut Trina off and stated that it wasn’t a couple of bees, it was a swarm. Trina then asked if she could estimate the number of bees. A brief silence occurred then the answer came back “I would guess between 3,000 and 5,000”. Trina had to ask the woman to repeat herself. The answer was the same. This swarm was so thick that you could barely see our front window. The kids were standing at the window looking extremely stressed. Trina hung up and gave me the details. We looked at each other and wondered what to do.

My theory was we stay at the game. Since we couldn’t get in the house anyway what was the point? We may as well stay in the safety of Chase Field then we could deal with what to do with the kids after the game. By then it would be dark and chances are the bees would take care of themselves. Trina didn’t exactly agree with my suggestion though she did acknowledge that I was probably right. In the mean time she thought we should call someone to take care of the bees while we were gone. At about the same time we looked at each other and asked, “Who exactly do you call to get rid of a swarm of bees?” Trina thought the appropriate people would be the fire department. I guess she figured if they get cats out of trees they are qualified to get bees off a window. I didn’t think fire fighter training included beekeeping but since I had never been through formal fire fighter training I couldn’t say for sure that I was right. Trina asked who I thought we should call. After thinking for a second I suggested we call the SWAT team. After all didn’t we want the bees dead? If I am trying to kill a fly I reach for the fly swatter so it just seemed logical that if I wanted dead bees I would call the SWAT team. It was about this time that Trina quit asking for my suggestions. Instead she found a quiet corner at Chase Field and made a few phone calls. It seems there is actually a listing in the yellow pages for beekeepers. We have one coming to the house tomorrow to see if they can deal with the problem. So with that out of the way we sat back and watched the Diamondbacks take game 2 of the series from the San Francisco Giants.



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