When I was about 10 years old I was playing in the yard of the house across the street from my grandmother's place. I was crawling under a fence when I noticed my hand was itching something fierce. Glancing down, I discovered I was leaning in an ant hill, and big-ass red ants were crawling up my arm and biting my tender childhood flesh.
I ran screaming across the street to my grandmother's house, where I stripped off all my clothes in the middle of the kitchen to brush away the ants, right in front of most of my rather large extended family (my mother has thirteen brothers and sisters) who were visiting for dinner.
This point leads directly to day "N" and my fear of public nudity.
But yeah, I'm not too fond of ants, either.