note pinched facial expressions and awkward body positions...ah, romance!

Everyone is obsessed with the weather, how hot it is, how smelly it is, how humid it is, how much sleep you're not getting, how many times you showered versus how many times you should have showered, ad infinitum. I'm going to add my observations to the bunch. I suggest that I'm suffering a lot, maybe just as much as those poor souls (and conscientious objectors) who don't have air conditioning, because I have a summer cold. Can you imagine feeling feverish and woozy in this weather? The bonus is I get to overmedicate. So I'm on the train, fresh off a sick day, and stoned on robitussin (need it, hacking cough) and dayquil (need it, or else will sleep into purchase orders) and I see a few weird things. I mean, weird even by NY standards.



First, I see a woman reading The Virgin ___(not blanked out for any reason other than I couldn't turn my head 90° and read the title unobtrusively), a steamy romance (could tell from the embossed heaving bosoms, tanned male pecs and thrown-back manes of hair). The woman is totally getting into it, perspiring, fanning herself and making little faces at the book. I'm afraid I might witness something that might make me celibate forever, so I turn away. Btw, she was totally the bookish D&D type with flowered summer dress and large spectacles, if anyone was getting unduly excited. I turn around into the sweating chest of a husky (am being kind) sweat-drenched man. He's wearing a grey shiny dress shirt (probably the most unforgiving colour in this weather), unbuttoned to reveal his hairy chest (really, I turned right into his chest hair) and he had a frayed Oscar de la Renta STUDIO tie on (by far, the saddest part of this story). This is the incredible part. He simultaneously shot me a dirty look for bumping into him and stared directly down my top. I felt like applauding. This dude clearly was on his way to a heart attack, had middle-eastern playboy fashion sense (from 1982), and had had a bad morning, but he still had the presence of mind to make me feel bad for klutziness and also slutty for not wearing a top buttoned up to my neck in 100° degree. It was all about inappropriate sexual behaviour on my train ride this morning, kids. I'd almost prefer a run-of-the-mill masturbator. But that could be the blessed cold pills talking.