Blog: Hot as Hell

Burt Ross

My bride and I just returned from back east—New York City and New York State, to be exact. It was so hot, the cliché “hot as hell” comes to mind. If hell is as hot as New York was, then I had better improve my behavior—immediately. 

Think: sauna. I didn’t  have to be outdoors for more than a few minutes before my clothes clung to me, and not because I am so svelte. I haven’t been svelte in decades. After a shower, I became exhausted just trying to dry off. I bet by now you are figuring out how uncomfortable it was back east.

When we drove towards New York City, a most unusual weather event took place. As the sun began to drop in the horizon, the temperature actually increased. At 5 p.m., the temperature measured 96 degrees, but at 7 p.m., the temperature reached triple digits.

Just as the sun made its farewell, the July sky lit up most dramatically. If I had been drinking, I might have thought I was experiencing a July 4 encore performance. The lightning was everywhere, but I never did hear any thunder. As if the sky were suffering from an enlarged prostate, the precipitation never amounted to much.      

Normally, city folk head to the mountains to cool off, but there was no relief in the Adirondack Mountains, where we spent over a week. The temperature there reached 94 degrees.

If the heat there didn’t destroy me, the insects most assuredly would have. All that rain, humidity and hot temperatures caused the insect world to go into a feeding frenzy.

I was forced to stay indoors all the time, lest I lose so much blood to the mosquitos that I would expire before having the chance to prepare for Judgment Day.

In other words, it’s great to be back home!