Beekeeping's all the buzz, but it comes with ... bees

The kids came screaming off the bus Thursday afternoon: "BEE! BEE! BEE!" Yes, the first bee of the season was floating around the bus, and the kids reacted with standard panic.

I asked my kid if she thought people should be allowed to raise bees in the city, and she looked at me as if I'd proposed mandatory city-sponsored wedgie festivals.

But the Minneapolis City Council is considering legalizing backyard beekeeping. As reported in this journal by Steve Brandt, backyard beekeeping has been banned for 34 years, for some odd reason, and we're assured that beephobia is misplaced.

A final vote is expected next week. Hmm.

Well. I like bees, in the abstract. Animated and voiced by Jerry Seinfeld: good. Performing amazing feats in nature documentaries, especially the way they communicate by means of interpretive dance: good. Hovering in front of my face like a drunk with a stiletto, not so much.

I'm sure they're wonderfully happy wee beasties who form love notes in the air by arranging themselves in letters that say "We Lof Yuo," and it's cute because bees can't spell very well, but gosh, A for effort. On the other hand, there are a few problems I have with the neighbor having hives:

1. Harsh, hot-barbed needles jamming into my skin. I know, it's irrational, but hear me out. Now and then I've been stung by a bee, and it's always a miserable experience. You cannot argue with a bee. You cannot call 911 on a threatening bee. When one hovers, your instinct says make frantic waving gestures like a sped-up video of David Copperfield performing a magic trick, but we've been trained to make gentle waving motions like an elderly monarch dismissing an obsequious courtier. Abrupt gestures apparently make bees go CRAZY and sting the first big flesh-slab available.

2. Some people are terribly allergic to bees, and have a reaction scientists call "death."

Every parent has had a total full-body fear-freak the first time their child gets stung, because you never know if your child is horribly allergic.

Even if the kid isn't allergic, they're scared of bees, and will run right through a screen door to escape from one. When you hear a kid scream, "BEE!" you know they're not practicing the alphabet; it's the childhood equivalent of the tornado siren. I'm surprised kids don't scream, "BEE!" the first Wednesday of every month, just to keep awareness at the proper level.

So let's recap where we are in modern urban life: You cannot have a couch on your porch, because it might breed vermin, but you can have stinging insects capable of killing people who react poorly. Peanuts are suspect in schools where kids have proven allergies, but bees we can live with. People complain about fire pits, yet smoke pots are OK. It's a mad world! Mad, I tell you!

Agreed: Bees are great pollinators, but we have plenty of flowers that seem to do OK without a neighbor dressing up in a sting-proof hazmat suit and waving a tranquilizing fog around a few times a day.

On the other hand, it's not as if anyone can unilaterally construct Beetown USA without you knowing; they'd have to get the neighbor's consent, and frankly, I don't know what I'd say.

Maybe we could compromise: You get to raise bees 10 feet from where I sit in the summer with lemonade and flowers. I get to raise bats. And strap lasers on their heads. No cause for alarm; they have excellent aim. What could go wrong?