I was canoeing on a small cold spring fed lake one gorgeous summer day with my soon-to-be bride. We had a great day and when it came time to leave, I left her in the truck and waddled gingerly (I was barefoot) off into the bush to change out of my cold wet stuff into dry clothes. I was behind this berm of earth and started stripping off. Having just gotten my wet stuff off and just starting the process of getting dressed, I heard something. A kind of buzz or whine.
"Mosquitoes are real bad this afternoon," I thought to myself.
I looked down, and swarming up around my bare legs, making their way up to my goose-bumpley nether regions was a nest of yellow jackets. I hauled my shorts on, held 'em up with one hand, and started flat out running (barefoot or not didn't seem that important all of a sudden) towards the Blue Goose (my '71 Chevy pick up), all the while yelling, "Start the truck! Start the truck!"
The future Mrs. Karhu leaned over and started the Blue Goose, and I hit that seat, put 'er in gear and was off down the road all in one motion.
I knew then I should marry this one.
I left some clothes back there that day, and learned that yellow jackets can really sting on the soft unprotected parts. Fortunately, nothing, um, too valuable was harmed in the making of this memory.
Edit: And no epi pen...