Hot Town, Summer in the City

What I should have added to this list, was how much I loathe New York City summers. I’ve grown increasingly irritable come July-August in recent years. Let’s examine why.

When we were kids, New york City summers were magical. Every year held a new adventure, a new adolescent romance. We played and laughed all day and he heat and sweat never bothered us. Our idea of lavish vacation was opening up a fire hydrant in the street to cool off. Many of us didn’t even have air-conditioners in the crib because at the time they were very expensive and inefficient. They were considered luxury items like bottled water and cell phones. If you had one, people knew you were ballin’. Instead we made due with an orgy of fans in the apartment.

There’s one good reason to hate the summer already. Even as I write this blog post, I’m being held captive in my apartment by the soft, seductive humming of my 25,000 BTU Air Conditioner with digital remote control and timer. It has spoiled me. I won’t sleep without it, I won’t work without it, I won’t eat without it, and I damned well won’t ever have foreplay without it. Forget about the horizontal mambo all together. Don’t touch me, don’t breathe on me, don’t even think about me. Just stay on your side of the bed till they turn the power back on… or October, whichever comes first.

When we were kids, we didn’t have jobs or responsibilities during the summer. We had baseball cards, pizza birthday parties and make-out sessions. Plus plenty of exercise. It is a physiological fact that less stress and cardiovascular activities promote the production of endorphins, thereby making us happier, less irritable and raising our threshold for pain and general discomfort.

There’s reason number two. Now we have job stress, significant other stress, kid stress (only some of us, thank god), financial stress, social anxiety, obsessive compulsive disorder, manic depression, and hangovers. Not to mention going to the gym consistently becomes a chore because of the monotony and lack of immediate competition (but more on that later). All the more reason to be fully conscious of those hot, musky bat-wings flapping around in your netherlands, under dress pants and a long-sleeved button-down. That’s not much fun.

I’d also like to point out that there are certain… uhm, obstacles… that make it… how should I put it?… unwise for me to leave the country at the present time. (a lot more on that much later) In the meantime, my choices for summer vacations are all tropical domestic destinations, all of which I’ve exhausted. I’ve done the whole eastern seaboard, and parts of California. Ok there’s also Hawaii but that’s expensive for domestic. My point is, until I’m able to go to France or Spain or Greece or the Carribean again, I have absolutely no desire to visit any local beaches. In fact I’ve told myself, the next time I’ll be going to the beach, I’ll be walking to it. From the hotel. Not sitting in traffic on the CGP, LIE and Southern State Parkway. I’ve also grown tired of packing and carrying a cooler, food, boogie board(s), beach chairs, a backpack full of sunblock, towels, change of clothes, etc, etc. It’s my own fault though. I’m the type that needs every convenience at a moment’s notice while at the beach, even if I don’t use it. A beach-bound boy scout if you will. All this lack of beach time has made me even more moody about the damn heat.

I’m not even going to get into the anguish of post-beach thermal epidermic issues. All you white people know what I’m talking about.

Some people will tell you, “Oh I don’t mind the summer. I can’t stand the winter though.” Those people generally have vaginas. Ninety-nine percent of the women I’ve known in my life are always complaining that its too cold when the temperature is just right in my book. Most guys and some of you honest gals will agree with me. Winters are worse? No thanks, you’re wrong. Period. Its not my fault this season’s designer coat was made to accentuate your figure and not keep you warm when Jack Frost is giving you the People’s elbow to the nose.

Ok granted, women have less body mass, generally higher core temperatures, but it’s common sense… ready? When you’re cold, you put on more clothing and then you’re not cold anymore. See how that works? Like magic. I’m never cold during the winter because I dress appropriately and I’ve got tons of happy-juice endorphins running through me from the lack of humidity. I wish the same magic would let me peel my freekin’ skin off when it’s a thousand degrees Kelvin and sunny, with humidity so thick you can soak up a Sham-Wow in a New York minute.