The Things We Do To Avoid The Heat

After 27 years of life, battered by the tempestuous and sometimes severe New England weather, one would think that I would be prepared for just about anything Mother Nature could throw my way. But never, never do I remember feeling as hot and sweaty as I have felt this summer. Maybe it's just always like this in Rochester? I wouldn't know. Or this heat could be some more karmic retribution for all my complaining of the rain and cold back in June. The most likely answer, however, is that it's the result of 20 years worth of AquaNet hairspray depleting our ozone layer. I mean, I know my grandfather alone probably made a hole the size of Massachusetts just trying to aerosol spray his comb-over into place.

In any case, we're fortunate that there are many ways to "beat the heat", as the weatherpeople are so fond of saying. In fact, this morning's news had a whole piece on tips for staying cool. (Of course, I'm thinking that if you're too dumb to think up ways to not be sitting directly under the noonday sun when it's 100 degrees, you probably should die of heat stroke. Or at least suffer some severe heat exhaustion, to teach you a lesson. You know, survival of the fittest and such.)

Anyway, back to our main source of heat relief: air conditioning, of course! Three cheers for the blowers of cold air! There is really nothing better than opening your door and feeling the caress of blessedly cool air wash over your sweatiness. It's gratifying to live in an age when we can defy the elements a bit, and retreat into the comforts of your own home. But what about when you tire of sitting in your arctic rooms with nothing but the TV and the internet and Playstation and books and the people you love to keep you company? What happens when you've seen every new movie out there and visited every mall in the upstate NY area? Well, that's when you resort to this:

B-I-N-G-O! You got it! Five bucks and you, too, could be yukking it up among the dregs of Rochester society. I found myself concentrating hard on finding my numbers while the woman across from sounded like a caged and angry rhino, her breath rattling as though she were breathing underwater, swearing audibly at her cards when she didn't have a number and cackling wildly to herself when she did.

There was one other woman across from us, wizened and ancient. I taunted her before each game: "I can feel it. I've got this one. I am so getting bingo this round! What do I need, Indian Star? Two rows? Layered cake? I'm totally getting that." She just nodded gravely. "I hope you do," was her simple reply.

Umm, hello? What kind of bingo competitors are up in this piece, anyway? I didn't come for well-wishing, ma'am. You better be ready for some serious girl fights if you win.

In the end, we left $5 lighter and with fond memories of air conditioning, the smell of egg salad sandwiches and cigarette smoke, and crazy old people. And that, my friends, is the real way to beat the heat.