Another day, another sweaty commute
Sometimes I like being a "part of things" in New York City, like cheering on the marathon runners or marching in the Halloween parade. Sometimes it makes you feel like you're a member of some cool club that struggles together through the trials of city living.
And then sometimes I want to get off this m.f.-ing island so badly I would consider swimming the disgusting waters of the Hudson River.
Today, for example, every subway line was shut down due to flooding from some freak monsoon that hit us about 6am. As you can imagine, with no subway, the streets are packed with suit-clad office workers, all waving wildly in an attempt to hail a cab that's already packed to capacity. Lines for the bus are 75-people long at each stop, but the buses are so full they won't accept passengers.
So, what do you do? You take off those Manolos and hoof it, honey. (Not that I can afford Manolos, but 'take off those Nine Wests' didn't have the same ring to it.) This might not be so bad if it weren't August. I don't know if you've had the misfortune of visiting Manhattan in the summer, but hell has nothin on this island. I've always imagined hell as a dry heat, more Las Vegas in July. New York is hell by the shore.
90% humidity and silk...not so much. By the time I got to my office, I looked like I'd just jumped out of a pool. I had to lay my ass down on the floor for a few minutes to dry off! Today was the kind of day when, if you have the sense God gave a dog, you don't even leave your house. I mean, my dog Winnie the Terrible loves to go outside, but you know this morning when I asked if she was ready for her walk, she languidly opened one and eye and gave me that look that said, "girl, is you cra-ra-zy?" She then readjusted herself in front of the air conditioner and went back to sleep.
Maybe she's smarter than I thought. I, on the other hand, walked a mile and a half through air that felt like soup, with people brushing past, their sweaty limbs bumping mine. I felt like a giant Matzo ball floating in a bowl of broth. At least I didn't have to feel embarrassed by the sweat stains down the back of my tee-shirt; the entire population of Manhattan was in serious need of a wardrobe change.
Oh but we were in it together, this silly metropolitan club of ours. In the South, when it's this hot and humid we stay in front of an air conditioner at all costs, but not up here. Nothing can keep New Yorkers from their office buildings, not snow, not rain, not dripping sweat. I think maybe next year I won't renew my membership!
And then sometimes I want to get off this m.f.-ing island so badly I would consider swimming the disgusting waters of the Hudson River.
Today, for example, every subway line was shut down due to flooding from some freak monsoon that hit us about 6am. As you can imagine, with no subway, the streets are packed with suit-clad office workers, all waving wildly in an attempt to hail a cab that's already packed to capacity. Lines for the bus are 75-people long at each stop, but the buses are so full they won't accept passengers.
So, what do you do? You take off those Manolos and hoof it, honey. (Not that I can afford Manolos, but 'take off those Nine Wests' didn't have the same ring to it.) This might not be so bad if it weren't August. I don't know if you've had the misfortune of visiting Manhattan in the summer, but hell has nothin on this island. I've always imagined hell as a dry heat, more Las Vegas in July. New York is hell by the shore.
90% humidity and silk...not so much. By the time I got to my office, I looked like I'd just jumped out of a pool. I had to lay my ass down on the floor for a few minutes to dry off! Today was the kind of day when, if you have the sense God gave a dog, you don't even leave your house. I mean, my dog Winnie the Terrible loves to go outside, but you know this morning when I asked if she was ready for her walk, she languidly opened one and eye and gave me that look that said, "girl, is you cra-ra-zy?" She then readjusted herself in front of the air conditioner and went back to sleep.
Maybe she's smarter than I thought. I, on the other hand, walked a mile and a half through air that felt like soup, with people brushing past, their sweaty limbs bumping mine. I felt like a giant Matzo ball floating in a bowl of broth. At least I didn't have to feel embarrassed by the sweat stains down the back of my tee-shirt; the entire population of Manhattan was in serious need of a wardrobe change.
Oh but we were in it together, this silly metropolitan club of ours. In the South, when it's this hot and humid we stay in front of an air conditioner at all costs, but not up here. Nothing can keep New Yorkers from their office buildings, not snow, not rain, not dripping sweat. I think maybe next year I won't renew my membership!
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