It’s a thing. Don’t believe me?
The scene: Riding your bike so innocently down some idyllic street, you notice a fuzzy bumble. It’s, say, forehead-height. Zigging, zagging, buzzing. You think, I’m commuting with nature. How sweet! The bee suddenly swings a left, following a pathway visible only to itself (or perhaps only invisible to humans) and WAP!!! Struck in the face by a bee.
Does it hurt? You ask, remembering your own bad/terrible/not-so-memorable experience with bee stings.
Well. Those velvety looking yellow/black/translucent bodies are more sharp edges, “muscle”, and bristle than they look, but I’d describe the experience as mostly a shock. And you can bet that, when I see those ladies/gents coming, I consider taking a different route.
However, bees are everywhere, pollinating and crunching wood (some of them) . . . head-bashing unsuspecting-city cyclists. All in a day’s work, ma’am.