This has been my first summer in New York, and wow it’s hot. The temperatures have been in the 90s except for a few days of rain, and it’s not really the temperature that gets you, it’s the humidity. It’s not to the point where I’m going to embarrass myself as a Texan by overly complaining about it, but I must say, this lack of central air-conditioning is annoying. Otherwise, it’s kind of nice. No school, work only two days a week, and a lovely ceiling fan spinning overhead.
To me, summer in New York means:
- Broken fire hydrants and flooded streets.
- Brunch every weekend. (Bad for the wallet, good for the soul.)
- Hot trash smell.
- “The Entertainer” on repeat from that ice cream truck that seems to circle my block.
- The extreme temperature difference between waiting for the subway (that steaming concrete hell that is the underground airless platform) and entering the air-conditioned car.
- Aguas frescas on the street. Watermelon, hibiscus, tamarind, horchata, oh my!
- All those damn tourists who walk slowly, crowd the museums, talk obnoxiously loud on the subway, and make my life just that much more miserable.