And now it’s time to play another game of, “You know you’re a true Floridian when …”
This week’s theme is: Mosquitoes!
Oh yes, something we all know about. If you’re a real Floridian, you’ve spent most of your life covered in red welts and scratching like a deranged dog. You’ve probably asked a mosquito to drive you home after one too many. Some of your cousins are even mosquitoes.
So, ready to play? Ready to find out if you’re a Floridian extraordinaire?
Let’s begin: You know you’re a true Floridian when …
l You have thrown a balled up sock across the room and splattered a mosquito on the wall. Bonus points if your wife gave you a high five rather than a lecture on tossing dirty laundry in the house.
l You talk to neighbors about mosquitoes as if they’re the weather. “Boy, some swarm we got last night, huh? I didn’t think it would ever let up. Must have been three inches.”
l You go on long hunts in the house trying to track down and destroy a buzzing, winged bloodsucker who bit you on the ankle. When I say “long hunts,” I mean you spend hours searching your house, wandering from room to room, calling, “Here mosquito, mosquito, mosquito.” I have phoned in sick for work. I have given up all food and water for days. I have done flying acrobatic leaps that dislocated shoulders when I hit the wall. All on epic mosquito hunts. Usually they end in failure and me crumpled up on the floor in tears. (Then my wife walks into the room, makes a half-hearted swing and smacks the vermin from the air.)
l You talk to mosquitoes. You threaten their family. You explain how you plan to dismember them if they bite your daughter again. You walk around the house in a delirious daze while chirping, “Here mosquito, mosquito, mosquito.”
l You have invented mosquito-deterrent devices. Like a wire mesh mosquito suit that surrounds you and makes friends consider whether they need new friends.
l Against your wife’s protests, you have turned your daughter’s height measurement chart into a victory wall marking your greatest mosquito conquests.
l You don’t believe any of that hoo-ha about mosquitoes being attracted to people by scents or breath or sweat. No, you think mosquitoes are purely attracted by spite.
l You pray to every God you can find on Wikipedia — even the really obscure ones — for the strength to overcome your mosquito enemies. Sometimes you pray for superpowers, like really big hands or your own set of wings. For good reason, no deity ever answers your calls.
l You like a scoop of sugar and DEET on your breakfast cereal.
l You train your dog to catch mosquitoes with her teeth.
l You have had a heated argument about whether Off or Cutter is the better bug spray. Bonus points if it came to blows, or you actually used the repellent as a weapon during the fight.
l Even though you feel like an absolute lunatic, you swat furiously at a mosquito when you find one in your car … while driving! No, you don’t pull over. What good would that do? Instead, you swing wildly like a drunken orangutan, the car veering all over the road. People driving by report to police that an inebriated monkey is driving a car while having a seizure. None of this fazes you. You rap your knuckles again and again against the windshield. And if you succeed, you get so excited you crash the car into a tree. You don’t even mind. Two-hundred bonus points.
l You can snatch a mosquito out of the air while reading a newspaper and taking a sip of coffee. (This move qualifies you as a true Floridian ninja.)
How did you do? If you answered, “Hells Yeah!” to any five of these questions, you’re a true Floridian. Congratulations! Now where’s my bug spray?