it might be worth it

well, readers, it's another week of literally trying not to drop dead here in new york. if i thought that the last motherchristing heat wave was bad, this one promises to be worse. just like everywhere else in the country, temperatures are soaring up to, oh, i don't know, 103 degrees. with a heat index of 115. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN DEGREES. when you're walking down the strip in las vegas and you feel heat like that--and it's true, by the way, that it's a dry heat and that it doesn't feel as hot as a, um, wet heat (ew, wet heat. how porno sounding)--it's almost exciting. like, "oooh, i can feel this sun totally crisping the skin on the back of my neck like bacon!" but it's only cute because you know you're only going to be out in it for five minutes, or however long it takes you to walk across that bridge from the MGM grand to new york, new york. you walk from one casino/shopping mall to another and they're so air conditioned that you don't really mind the 115 degrees.

when you're stuck swimming through the new york summer air, though, it's a very different proposition. you're not walking to and from a casino/drinking establishment/swimming pool. you're walking from the revolting, sweaty, smelly train station to work, through a sea of revolting, sweaty, smelly people. and you know that you're one of them. (it doesn't help, i suppose, that i was distracted this morning and completely forgot to put on my certain-dri. OOPS!) it was nearly comical, though, how the train station felt this morning. the whole thing was absurdly hot. like, hotter than outside and outside it's 100 degrees. and the spot where i stood--where i stand every morning since i moved two train cars down to avoid the crazy latin woman--felt like there was a heater blowing onto it. there's actual hot air actually blowing on me. actually.

and so i just had to kind of laugh, as i stood there with sweat dripping down my face. dripping down my spine. much like when you're in new york and caught out in a monsoon-like rainstorm, there's just nothing you can do. you get soaked and chalk it up to the list of thigs that suck about living here. but then you think about that open-bar out magazine party last thursday and decide that it might just be worth it.