Walking in the Heat

Walking in the middle of the afternoon, with a high of 105 isn't exactly the most comfortable feeling in the world. Oh, for the first five to ten minutes, it's bearable. You've come from an air conditioned room, so the cool air is still holding on to you. You haven't been sweating too bad, so you don't feel sticky. The jeans you chose to wore and the plain t-shirt aren't too heavy.

Then, your backpack starts to get annoying, pressing the cotton of your t-shirt against your skin, and making your back and shoulders sweat, since the mild breeze can't get to those spots. You start to regret your decision to walk home instead of catching the bus, but you see the intersection that marks the one-third way point. You brighten, walk a little faster. After another third of the trip, you can stop at the gas station and get a drink.

Another five minutes, and your spirit starts to dampen. You've been walking for half an hour. By now, you're sweating enough that wiping your forehead seems pointless. Your jeans are sticking uncomfortably to your legs, and you're completely regretting not searching harder for shoes and settling for a pair of light hiking boots. But, you see another corner, and know the store, and that cold drink, are only a handful of minutes away.

By now, the t-shirt that had seemed light enough when you previously considered this walk, feels like a thick sweater. You're uncomfortable sweaty everywhere, and you're even regretting pulling your hair into a ponytail instead of pulling it all up. You're seriously considering hiding your backpack and picking it up, maybe when it's cooler. But, then, the store comes into sight. You speed up again, eager for the airconditioned store and the fridges in the back laden with ice cold drinks. It's been forty minutes, you're parched, hot, sticky, and uncomfortable.

You open the store door and step inside. Immediately, your face and arms are assaulted with cool air, but the heat seems to cling to your clothes still, and the skin underneath still feels hot and sticky. You buy one of the biggest drinks you can get your hands on, and take a long drink, but it does little to cool you down, only to stop that nasty taste in your mouth. You stand at the door, staring at the heat waves coming up from the street, and trying not to cry as you imagine stepping back out there. Only fifteen minutes top, you tell yourself as you square your shoulders and step outside.

You swear it's gotten even hotter. You're tired, and your body is used to the air conditioning now. You're sweating on top of your sweat. Your hair is wet, and you look at the uphill climb in front of you. You stare at it for a while, and take another long drink of your water, then sigh with determination and start the trudge up that hill.

By now, your brain has gone to sleep. It's afraid if it stays awake for much longer, it'll realize just how much you've been torturing your body and make you pass out. So, now you're walking up hill, now carrying the drink that's slowly going from cold to just under room temperature. It's become a burden you're not sure is worth it. Then, you see your street and almost cry tears of relief (it's the second time you've almost cried, maybe you should make sure you're emotionally stable). Your house comes into view and you've never seen a prettier sight.

Your house is air conditioned but all you can think of is getting out of those hot sticky clothes. Your close your room door, turn on the fan and stand under it as your brain slowly wakes up so it can tell you what to do.

You take off your shoes first, and peel the socks (a bit of a tug-of-war since they seem to have become glued to your feet). The air hits your feet and you sigh. But you're not done yet. You wriggle out of those jeans, which is harder than it was to get them on. You almost do a dance of relief, but decide to pull on the loose cotton shorts first, in case somebody rude walks in on you. Your legs, if they had mouths, would be singing the Hallelujah Chorus now that they can feel fresh air. Your shirt is the next to go. Screw rude people, you stand under the fan for a short time, then search your drawers for the lightest shirt with the least amount of sleeves, and finally settle on a shirt so thin it's practically see through. You're not done yet though... your face is still red. You wait for the sink water to turn cold then splash it over your face, then comb your hair and put it up to keep it off your neck.

Finally, you can breathe and you swear never to do something so stupid again.