Z. Madison

For when you're relaxing at home or killing company time - Z. Madison's here for you.

6.10.2008

As I Wait For The Sweet Relief Of Violent Thunderstorms

Summer came early this year to the city. After four oppressively hot days, a batch of ferocious storms are headed our way. After their passing, the temperature should drop a good twenty degrees and we'll all be able to breathe a little bit easier.

Thankfully, half of the scorcher occurred over the weekend and I could ride it out in the relative comfort of a cranking A/C and the manfriend's brother's backyard pool. (God bless the 'burbs). Yet unlike the school children who got early releases or 'heat' days off, I had to schlep my way to and fro my 9-5 with the rest of the sweaty and suffering masses come Monday morning.

Suffer we did. As most seasoned city residents know, there is hell on earth. Hell can be found on the subway platforms any day the thermometer climbs above ninety. My summer subway survival kit always includes both a wooden/cloth fan I scored years ago in Chinatown and it's more technologically advanced electronic cousin. But these tools only dull the pain until the blessed relief of an air conditioned car's embrace. At least, most of the time this is how it goes.

Then there's the other times. If a train rolls into the station with every car packed but one, you know to avoid the empty one as it's going to be a roasting inferno. At least they're pretty easy to spot. Then there's the accidental fuck-ups. These are when you are either rushing to make the train or have already stepped into a populated car too far to pop back out when you realize why everyone is so miserable looking inside. There's. No. Fucking. A/C. And you're stuck until at least the next stop which, in typical MTA fashion, could be mere minutes or not. It's usually in these moments the MTA gods laugh at you and all types of random tunnel stops and 'switch problems' occur.

Out of the past couple of days, I've had luck on my side. Until six o'clock tonight, that is. In running an errand, I had to forgo my usual ride on the downtown F and instead found myself bounding onto an uptown 1's sauna. As I became a sticky mess, at least I could find humor in my ipod, which immediately random shuffled to Hot In The City by Billy Idol.

To the MTA, thank you. Six out of seven ain't bad.

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