We are in the midst of a heatwave, for those who haven’t heard. The thermostat started its ascent late Friday night, so that Saturday morning arrived with the iridescent light of summertime and blistering heat of August. By the time the clock hit noon, the heat was on. This heat, made all the more memorable by humidity, is the kind that engulfs you, rising from the street to the skies above. It’s the kind of heat that is great for skin, but less so for hair. As I trudged home, I walked down another street fair on 2nd Avenue that stretched from 14th to 23rd. That’s the thing about this city even during the most oppressive days of summer, there are always street fairs, festivals, and celebrations that take place in each corner of the city. I walked down the street, taking in the many food stands, selling gyros and slices of watermelon. As expected, there were stands hawking hand-woven baskets from Nigeria, Indian tunics, and fine sheets with thread counts that remind you of the Four Seasons.
Nighttime arrived, but with no relief from the heat. The lingering presence of the high temperature was a change from our experience in Los Angeles where the sun’s descent brought relief from the dry heat of the desert, even if temporary. My husband and I went to a small Italian place in the Village, choosing to sit outside. We drank our Chardonnay as we took in the promenade of young women clad in sun dresses and open toed sandals. Despite the throat-clutching heat, all of the surrounding tables was occupied by diners, sitting in the nighttime heat, drinking their wine, and enjoying the cascade of pedestrians.
They, the weather people, say that relief is in sight late Tuesday night. The nighttime thunderstorm and rain will bring temperatures down to the more expected levels of mid-80’s for this time of the year. This heatwave has made each person predicting gloom for this summer. It seems predestined that with the economy in such sad shape, record airline prices, and more people opting for less expensive vacations that the thermostat will reach new heights. Our son, who likes heat, welcomed it with arms flung wide open. He was delirious to be able to wear his beloved flip-flops. He joined all the other neighborhood kids at the playground, running through the water feature. As I watched him chasing others from our kitchen window, I couldn’t help but remember that song from my childhood–Hot Child in The City.
