A few years ago, I was in Jupiter, FL for a six-hour endurance kart race, a good warm up for the 2nd running of the 24 Hours of America at the same course the following month.
I should have known that trouble was brewing when there were eight vultures circling overhead.
I was standing in the the pit area for the driver's meeting with my good friend Jeff Smith from Tampa. He was driving in the race with me, and a couple other of his family members. Jeff's company was underwriting the expenses of the race for our team, so I was there just to do my job - drive and get practice for the 24.
I already had my racing suit on - a bright yellow one. We were paying rather close attention to the instructions from the race director when -
I STARTED TRYING OUT FOR THE CHIPPENDALES.
Jeff looked at my hand and then the legs of my suit and saw that I was standing on a fire-ant mound.
Without thinking, I immediately unzipped the one-piece suit and threw it off. It was then I started to feel self-conscious. The good news was that I was wearing running shorts and a t-shirt.
Women at the track swooned as I gyrated trying to get out of the suit, and then repelled the attack once freed.
The bad news is that the fire-ants viewed me as an all-you-can-eat super buffet.
The race director asked for the EMTs at the track to come over to me.
I was still pretty lucid.
The pair of EMTs I had drawn had rather dark senses of humor.
After giving me some swabs to start treating the bites, one of them asked if I felt like I was going to pass out.
I already had my racing suit on - a bright yellow one. We were paying rather close attention to the instructions from the race director when -
I STARTED TRYING OUT FOR THE CHIPPENDALES.
Jeff looked at my hand and then the legs of my suit and saw that I was standing on a fire-ant mound.
Without thinking, I immediately unzipped the one-piece suit and threw it off. It was then I started to feel self-conscious. The good news was that I was wearing running shorts and a t-shirt.
Women at the track swooned as I gyrated trying to get out of the suit, and then repelled the attack once freed.
The bad news is that the fire-ants viewed me as an all-you-can-eat super buffet.
The race director asked for the EMTs at the track to come over to me.
I was still pretty lucid.
The pair of EMTs I had drawn had rather dark senses of humor.
After giving me some swabs to start treating the bites, one of them asked if I felt like I was going to pass out.
His partner commented that the question may be psyching me out.
After my arms, hands, fingers, legs, feel and toes had been treated, I realized I did not have a racing suit to use now.
The infested suit was bagged and sealed in plastic, and I prayed they would not find a way to get out of the luggage hold and into the cockpit on the flight home the next day.
I did find myself wondering if all of AirTran's flights out of Palm Beach did barrel rolls after wheels-up.
And I did not choose to seize the day and turn my fire-ant experience into a career as a "girls night out" entertainer.
After my arms, hands, fingers, legs, feel and toes had been treated, I realized I did not have a racing suit to use now.
The infested suit was bagged and sealed in plastic, and I prayed they would not find a way to get out of the luggage hold and into the cockpit on the flight home the next day.
I did find myself wondering if all of AirTran's flights out of Palm Beach did barrel rolls after wheels-up.
And I did not choose to seize the day and turn my fire-ant experience into a career as a "girls night out" entertainer.
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