Does anyone understand how fucking hot it is in the subway stations in New York City?

If you don’t live in New York City and you don’t understand… let me try to explain. It’s so fucking hot that I have to keep saying “fucking hot” to get my point across.

When I make my first step out on to the sidewalk at 8:10 am every morning, it’s nice. It’s brisk. It’s almost a little chilly. But I know that all I have to do is walk those eight blocks to the station and I will be a little warm and toasty. And I can do it everyday, but nothing prepares me for the heat I will feel once I walk down to the hole in the ground.

I don’t even know why I attempt to put on makeup in the morning because by the time I get down those stairs, my makeup has already melted off. And all I wear is mascara! The hair is a whole ‘nother story. Curly = Frizzy, and it can’t be tamed.

And I’m fully convinced that people do not go to the gym in New York City during the summer. I know this because all you have to do is walk down the stairs into the sauna to burn off those extra calories you took in at lunch. Take it from me, EAT that candy bar. Go ahead eat those few extra chips.

It’s amazing. I sit there waiting for the train at 5pm completely exhausted and I pray for a train to come through. ANY train. I don’t even care if it’s mine! If the wrong train comes, it’s fine. It brings in a breeze as it passes by, and sometimes if I’m close enough to the train when the door opens, I can feel a gust of the cold air.

I’m almost ashamed to say this, but today I almost stole one of those fold-up fans from an old lady. I was just sitting there watching her fanning herself while everyone else was sweltering. It was almost like she had this smile on her face like she knew something we all didn’t. I wanted to look at her and say, “You’re going to hell.” But then I remember… we’re already there!

Each day I watch the subway conductor drive the train into the station. Sometimes I swear I can see horns and a pointy red whip of a tail. I want to blame him. I want to tell him it’s his fault for causing the heat in the station. But I know all he’ll say to me is….

“Don’t worry, soon you’ll be complaining it’s too fucking cold.”