The Bug

“Who knew the loudest thing I would hear that night wouldn’t be the fireworks”

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It was the summer of the late 1980s, and my family and I were waiting to enjoying a perfect 4th of July evening at Radnor High School. The air was warm but not too hot, the sky was that deep, rich navy blue, and the excitement of fireworks was building up as we settled on the grass, ready for the show. It was one of those magical nights where everything felt right—until it wasn’t.

As we waited for the fireworks to light up the sky, I leaned back, taking in the scene. The hum of the crowd, the smell of popcorn, and the occasional laugh filled the air. Then, out of nowhere, a tiny bug flew straight into my ear and landed directly on my eardrum. You know that feeling when you’re trying to swat at a fly and it keeps buzzing around your face? Well, imagine that, but deep in your ear.

At first, I thought, “Okay, it’s just a little bug. No big deal.” But then, the situation escalated from “annoying” to “full-blown disaster” in seconds. That tiny creature didn’t just fly in; it made a beeline directly into my ear canal and on my eardrum, like it was on a mission to set up camp in my head. And there it stayed.

The sound was unlike anything I had ever heard before—imagine a stereo system turned up to the max, cranked all the way to the “static crackling” setting, and then stuffed deep inside your ear. It was like someone had plugged a radio straight into my brain, only the station was all static.

The discomfort was overwhelming. My head felt like it was about to explode. The noise was deafening. It wasn’t just annoying; it was physically painful. I started shaking my head, but it didn’t help. The bug was holding its ground like it was a contestant on “Survivor: Ear Edition.”

In that moment, I understood what it was like to be the butt of a slapstick comedy. I tried to stay calm, but the combination of the noise, the pain, and the sheer absurdity of it all made me look like I had just been struck by a lightning bolt of bad luck. My family, initially confused, quickly realized something was seriously wrong as I staggered around like I had just seen a UFO.

I turned to Mommy, eyes wide and voice shaking, and said, “We need to go to the hospital. Right now.” Unlike me, we all know Mommy is one not to over react in situations like this and said let’s wait until the show is over and we can get it out when we get home. Then out came the phrase often quoted in our family “NO, BUT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! ” and said again “We need to go to the hospital. Right now.”

So, off we went—through the crowd, across the parking lot, and into the car. As we drove to the emergency room, I tried to keep it together, but every time the car hit a bump, it felt like my eardrum was going to explode. I kept thinking, “This is it. This is how I die I going to lose my hearing in one ear! —on a beautiful summer night, with a bug lodged in my ear.”

Finally, we arrived at the emergency room, and after what felt like an eternity, a nurse looked at me like I was a little crazy. I tried to explain the situation, but I think the image of a grown man, mid-crisis, clutching his ear in desperation, might have made me seem a tad overdramatic. Regardless, she rushed me to the back, and after some quick work (and a few more jokes about bugs and earwax), they got the little creature out.

The whole ordeal ended with me looking like a mix between a movie villain and a guy who had just survived an alien invasion. We missed the fireworks show, of course, but in a strange way, it became the fireworks of the evening—the kind you never forget.

So, every 4th of July, when I hear fireworks in the distance, I can’t help but remember that night. It wasn’t the boom of the fireworks that got my attention, but the tiny little bug that made its grand entrance into my life. And if I had to choose between the two, I’ll take the fireworks any day.