Hotter Than July

It was 100 degrees yesterday. The windows of my car melted back down into sand. Still, you don't hear me complaining about it. I grew up in a special forces training camp not too far from RFK Stadium. I was part of a top secret program called The Poverty Initiative. My recruiter, Agent Grandma, saw to it that I was prepared to handle anything Mother Nature could throw at me.

Our outpost wasn't fitted with those fancy A/C units that you see in houses nowadays. No, our base was designed with the specific intention of being the world's largest heat sink, absorbing every single one of the Lord's bountiful sun rays. Agent Grandma was old school and believed that opening a window was beneath us. Instead she put up drapes...long dark drapes that were like giant runway lights directing even more radiation toward our home.

This was a woman who, to this very day, believes that microwave ovens cause cancer and thus refuses to allow one in her home. It's above my pay grade to know exactly what it was she saw during the war to make her distrust air conditioners, but to prevent old Charlie from sneaking one in the house she had all the electrical sockets specially designed to only have two prongs. In case someone did manage to sneak one in and find a Radio Shack that actually carried a three-to-two prong adapter, the security system would cause the Thomas Edison era fuse box to kill the power to the house. She was thorough.

Now that isn't to say that we didn't have some last resort cooling systems. She authorized the use of a fan for the downstairs area. That's fan (singular). One fan to rule them all. Whenever company came over I was proud to push the round thingy on the back to make it oscillate and share the gift of the arctic with everyone. Also, to celebrate my tenth anniversary with the agency she bought me a window fan for my room. Words fail to capture the way I felt when I first pumped 100 degree air from outside into my 115 degree room. It was like biting into a York Peppermint Patty (or sitting inside a convection oven).

I've seen things, boy. Things that would make a lesser man cry. I've seen ice cubes boil inside glasses of Kool-Aid and a pack of Skittles melt down into a simple syrup. So don't talk to me about hot. You lack the training and the qualifications to make that assessment. It's gonna be 95 degrees today. I think I might just put on a jacket.