Wasps... Fortunately, this has happened enough times that before I work in this particular area, I always bring a broom handle and whack the bushes a half dozen times to see what's hiding there. Haven't gotten stung yet, thankfully.
Please tell me that my mental image of you running away, shrieking like a little girl when they come flying out of the bushes is at least partially accurate.
We had a nest on the back porch last year, so instead of using pesticides, we used stick to knock it into a pot of boiling water (understandably not an option for a bush-based nest). Unfortunately, the queen didn't like this and ended up escaping death and landing on my roommate's back before he walked back into the house to celebrate his victory. My best pals, a married couple, happened to be over for dinner when we decided to embark on this little quest. James, the husband of the happy couple, is allergic to just about every insect known to man (the last time he was bitten on the foot by an ant, he ended up in the hospital), so when we saw the queen, he pushed his wife out of the way and ran screaming across the house. I, being the calm, rational person I am, grabbed a wad of paper towels and put the poor thing out of its misery, laughing hysterically. Priceless.
