it's not the heat that's killing me, it's the humidity

so i'm standing on the bus on my way to my esl gig this morning and the temperature inside the big tin can on wheels is about 80 degrees celsius and there isn't an inch of breathing room in sight and then i notice that for some inexplicable reason, the windows on said vehicle are all shut tight. and so i think to myself: what is it about bus riders in this city and their refusal to open the window on days like today when it's hot enough to fry an egg on somebody's forehead? and as i look around the bus i see that there isn't a single passenger who has managed to escape the effects of the overwhelming humidity based on the torrents of sweat pouring down their pallid faces. and so i think to myself: is it really so important that my fellow passengers block out the breeze in order to preserve their neatly-coiffed hairdos, even at the risk of suffering a heat stroke? and as i look down at my feet i can't help but notice that the pressure of standing in the excruciating warmth is causing my ankles to swell up. and so i think to myself: surely there must be at least one reasonably sane passenger on this g-dforsaken bus who appreciates both the current weather conditions and the fact that all 16 of the bus's windows remain closed at this point in time.

and it was at that moment that i spotted an elderly lady seated in front of me giving me a bit of a strange look - the kind of look that elderly ladies give when they've forgotten that others may be watching them - and so i decided that i couldn't allow this particular opportunity to go unanswered. and maybe it was because i had finally located my "friends best of season one" vhs tape earlier that morning or maybe it was because i had just been thinking about how i would describe the sitcom's six main characters to my first period listening class or maybe it was because the initial stages of my own impending heat stroke were beginning to take hold but whatever the cause, i decided that it would be best to respond to the elderly lady's impertinent gesture with one of my own.

"how you doin'?" i asked in my best joey tribbiani drawl.

"excuse me?" the shocked golden girl replied.

and at the very next stop, the grande dame of the lawrence west 52 disembarked.

"mrs. seinfeld, please. i am begging you. put the air conditioner on." seinfeld (1991)

and yet, i remember the snow during softball practice in late march: