Its Mt. Baldy and the bugs came out to play. This tuesday we a couple friends an I went to hike in the wilderness that is the Angeles National Forest. I was expecting fresh air, which we got. Big trees, check. And a whole lot of bugs, which I wasn't expecting. The flys were abnormally ginormous. Each one would land on you and begin to make you the host of their ever expanding family. The red marks on me are proof of the attack I barely survived. I used to think that I was a wilderness person. I cherished the fact that as a city boy, I would appreciate the expansive forest. But much to my chagrin, or distaste for the insect kingdom, I am not in fact a wilderness boy. I am through and through a dweller of suburbia. Its not a big surprise I suppose. I was raised in the city. So it comes down to having to choose a life of modern comforts, or a life of tranquil peace with great weather and beautiful sunsets, melded with horrifying insects and grotesque bug bites. I think I choose the former. A city boy. Doesn't sound so bad, does it?
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