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“It’s a shambles,” observed a Bug Night-er as she looked around the laboratory, “We should have done more to help Mr. White Coat—he has been alone with us all evening.”

The sole White Coat did not hear this observation. He was running figure eights around the rooms while returning the appropriate ‘scopes to the upper laboratory, emptying alcohol squirt bottles, and checking dishes for wayward specimens hidden in detritus. Had he heard the observation, he would have said that he was grateful for the reliable regular Bug Night-ers who took a leadership role in the laboratory set-up and were helping put away ‘scopes, sorting through the candy box of hand instruments, and coiling extension cords. Others were allowing petri dishes to dry naturally with their alcohol vs. rinsing them with water and assuring that jars and vials were all placed in their rightful homes.

The other White Coat became ill after last week’s Bug Night and imagined the burden that she could not fill for fear of infecting the stalwart and amazing volunteers. She lay writhing on her office floor, sick and having difficulty breathing while she dreamed of being at Bug Night #6.

“I only hope that Mr. White Coat is getting the help he needs,” she thought helplessly.

The doors open at six. Please knock on the window if you arrive a bit late. We can’t wait to see you there.