Let me take you back to summer 2011 or 2012 in Marin County, California. At this point, I had been in the pest control industry for about a year or two, running a route through Sonoma and Marin Counties. I loved my job—helping clients, visiting different places every day, and building my reputation as a solid technician.

One day, I got a call about paper wasps in San Rafael, in the Peacock District. I arrived at the home, knocked on the door, and spoke with the homeowner, who explained that wasps were nesting in the eaves along the back of her house. No problem! I told her I’d handle it.

I geared up, went to the backyard, and began treating the eaves. While working, I noticed another nest in the roof jack vent. Thinking I could go the extra mile for the client, I decided to take care of that nest too. I stepped back to get a better angle—big mistake.

I didn’t know but I had just stepped directly on top of a yellow jacket ground nest.

At the time, my uniform consisted of baggy Dickies pants—not the modern slim-fit versions, but the loose, wide-leg classics that flared over my boots. At first, I didn’t even notice anything was wrong. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something dart out of the ground.

I looked down, but didn’t see much. Then, I shifted my right foot and—bam!—chaos erupted.

Yellow jackets exploded from the ground, swarming me in an instant. Before I could react, they crawled up my pant legs, attacking my ankles, calves, and knees. My first instinct was to swat and spray, but I quickly realized I was outnumbered and outmatched.

I started slapping my legs like I was doing the Macarena, desperately trying to smash the yellow jackets before they made it to my “delicate areas.” That’s when I took off running from the backyard, through the side yard, and toward the front—all while unbuckling my belt and ripping off my pants in a last-ditch effort to stop the madness.

By the time I reached the front yard, I was standing there pantless, still frantically swatting at yellow jackets clinging to my socks. And just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, I looked up and realized…

Across the street, an entire construction crew was working on a home remodel.

To them, it probably looked like some guy running out of a backyard with no pants on for no apparent reason. If they had no context, they probably thought it was a scene straight out of “Friday” with Bernie Mac and Ms. Parker! 😂