Like the platter of bagels and cream cheese in your office kitchen, my presence—and mine alone¹—quickly went viral among the bloodthirsty mosquitoes of Split Rock Golf Course. My idyllic Sunday in the Bronx took a turn for the gruesome as a relentless swarm of insects made me feel like Willem Dafoe in Platoon.
Why me? Did they know I like to make fingernail skindentations in the bite marks? Was it the influence of Shark Week? The Supermoon? #BlackTwitter?
None of the above. Because of the growing number of Asian golfers on New York City’s public courses, mosquitoes (like transient drifters) have developed a fondness for sriracha and soy sauce². Fact. And my Laotian ass is well-seasoned.
¹ The other three members of my foursome went untouched by the mosquitoes and played footloose and fancy-free. Scott’s presence also meant I had to throw my original hypothesis out the window. (The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice.)
² By ‘sriracha and soy sauce’ I mean carbon emissions and body heat.