buggin'.

"Would you like to try the mealworm marinara?"

The thing about eating food with bugs in it is that it's all in your head. I have a history of unpleasant bug eating, starting with chowing down on a locust after receiving some bad advice from an older brother, on to eating a cricket in a sucker as a matter of pride. But I found myself in line at Cafe Insecta only for personal pride. No one knew me there, so I wasn't going to lose face by not getting my recommended daily allowance of grasshoppers. I'm not sure why I was in line, really, except that I knew that I was dreading it, and somehow that was reason enough that I should grab a plate and say, "Please, sir, may I have some more?"

Bugfest is put on every year in downtown Raleigh by the NC Museum of Natural Sciences. I like festivals, and I guess bugs are pretty cool, so I wanted to go.

The outdoor activities were mostly hands-on things for kids. They varied by the sponsors. So the North Carolina Beekeepers association had a bunch of hives on view behind glass, and some local dance studio led a bunch of little girls dressed as butterflies in basic frolicking around a giant flower. There was also a sort of bug Olympics, where little kids pretended to be dung beetles and pushed giant balls around with their stomachs. The balls were brown, of course. There was a flea circus, and I found out once and for all that flea circus is a pretty literal term. It was a circus in a suitcase. I guess there were fleas involved, though it was hard to tell from my vantage point of ten feet away. Maybe the entertainment is really in having a lively ringleader.

Inside the museum was four floors devoted to educating minds about all kinds of bugs. There were live bugs for holding and live bugs only for looking. There were dead bugs held in place by stickpins. There were a billion little kids, and not only little boys. Perhaps some little girls have some snakes and snails mixed in with the sugar and spice. I wished I had a little kid to drag around, because my excitement over the creepy crawlies was really not enough to sustain my interest at any one booth for very long. It was truly a lost opportunity to be a cool Aunt Sandra. I did spend a little money, because I'm really good at that. One booth was selling beautiful rainforest butterflies in frames, the proceeds of which were to benefit the beautiful rainforests. I didn't buy a bug coffin suitable for framing, but I did buy a necklace charm which contained a butterfly wing. Of course it's gorgeous, especially if you don't know what it is. Whether it's cool or just creepy, I feel no need to decide.

But then after I'd looked at all the exhibits and admired all the many six-legged creatures, I found myself facing my fears at Cafe Insecta. The buffet was a free service provided by museum dollars, an opportunity to gross out all the little kids. It started innocently enough, with a smashing shrimp dip, but then it quickly went downhill with ant hummus. There was grasshopper stirfry, lasagna with mealworms, and some spicy crawfish with vegetables, the last which I would have gladly eaten anyway. There was a lovely worm and watercress salad, some hush "grubbies," and some friend crunchy thing with six-legged crunchy things inside. It was all undeniably gross, and I will allow the teenage girl inside of me to confess that the Ew factor was very high. But I did it. I didn't go back for seconds, and I had to talk to myself a little bit ("it's all in your head, you can't even taste it, it's all in your he- ew, a worm!"). So now I've done it, and I feel no need to do it again. Sure, I'll wear dead insects on a string around my neck, but I'm definitely above eating them.