Way back in the day, my sister-in-law, Judy, was visiting us from the L.A. area. As usual, I was the dutiful brother-in-law and I picked her up at O'Hare airport, and brought her directly to our home on the north side of Chicago.
It was a beautiful spring afternoon, the sun was shining, there were Georgia O'Keeffe clouds in the sky, traffic wasn't too bad, and we had some good conversation in the car. As usual, we had the air conditioning on in the car all the way home, and as we arrived in front of my house, my wife emerged from 
the front door to greet her sister. Judy opened the car door and stepped briskly out of the car door and suddenly froze. Her eyes went wide and she looked around as though she'd been attacked.
"What the heck is that!?" she asked looking around, left and right... she was reacting to the cacophony that we had become inured to over the last few weeks, as the latest brood of 17-year-cicadas had descended upon the Midwest and the Chicago area. These were hideous looking cicadas, who hibernate underground years, or so only to emerge once every 17 years to mate for a few weeks, lay eggs and die, and then the cycle 
begins again. Their mating call was so loud, you had to yell to be heard over it, it was like bazillions of crickets were "cricketing" at once... but significantly louder.
Well, the 17-year cycle is upon us again. They are scheduled to arrive within a few weeks. But there is also a 13-year variety that will be coming out this year, too. So instead of just the 17-year variety this year, we're going to have double the fun with the 13-year variety at the very same time. The last time they emerged simultaneously was 1803... the same year that Fort Dearborn was constructed on the shores of Lake Michigan, (and I think my ex-mother-in-law was a teenager).
They are harmless, they don't bite or sting, but they are loud, with decibels reaching that of a lawnmower or a small jet engine. They are fugly, and climb up vertical structures (like trees, and buildings) shed their exoskeletons and then they can fly... and with their red bug-eyes are truly gross. Dogs and cats like to eat them (they're super high in protein) but oddly enough wives and girlfriends don't seem to like to get them caught in their hair (go figure). Husbands and boyfriends aren't overly fond of them either. But my local carwash will love them.
Pesticides don't seem to have any impact, but they do make a satisfying crunch when you step on them or drive over the teeming hoardes. I'd like to say that there will be millions of them, but in truth they will likely number in the beeelyons! And the smell of decaying cicada carcasses when it's all over ... well... it's less than delightful. Best bring your shovel.
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