Though there are many reasons to love Manhattan (see this article by my fellow writer). Did you read it? No? OK, go ... I'll be here), there is no pain like that of summer in the city.
It's 91 degrees and in your borough, it's not awful though because there are some areas of shade or a light breeze coming off the water.
Unfortunately, you have to leave your beloved borough and head to the city for whatever Godforsaken reason.
On the train platforms and in the underground there is no escape from the unyielding heat. It's almost like you're standing in an oven and you're about to be overcooked. The train finally arrives and now you're a sardine, equally as slimy and salty (honestly I've never had sardines, I just imagine they're salty). There is a person standing next to you with his sweat stained armpit really close to your face. And you want to be mad about it. You really do. But you can't because it's not his fault.
You emerge from the sweatbox of doom and step out into the city streets.
It's 91 degrees and in Manhattan, it is physically painful. The humidity and pollution has now become visible as you look down the avenues. You look for the shady side of the street, and notice it because of the overwhelming number of people scurrying along it. You look up and notice you're surrounded by cars with the heat radiating from the engines as fire pulses through them. They keep the people inside nice and cool as they deal with traffic. As a bead of sweat rolls down your cheek, you wish you took your car.
The scent of exhaust and garbage overwhelms your nose. You're on the back side of an establishment, and they put all of their garbage on the curb. It's cooking.
The buildings around you are made entirely of glass window panes and as the sun bounces off of them, it shoots you in the eyes at odd angles. The sun's reflection feels hotter than the sun itself. You remember being a child, holding a magnifying glass, trying to bring fire to small dry leaves. The glass panes on the sky scrapers are the largest magnifying glasses you've ever seen.
As you look around at the people scurrying along the streets, you can't help but imagine them as ants, carrying along their duties of the day. In Manhattan we are all ants.
In Manhattan in the summer, we are all ants under a magnifying glass.
