Stuck in an air-conditioned bubble
Forget the dog days of summer — this season's a bitch
Is that a skyline or a mirage of Hell?
Beware: death awaits you on the grass.
Summer fashion? Not interested.Photo courtesy of Tactical Things
This is not a party.Courtesy photo
For most, summer is a splendid stretch of pleasure-packed months spent frolicking in the warm weather and enjoying a bit of vacation. But popular opinion is often misguided (i.e. Real World Hawaii, George Bush and Two and a Half Men). Summer is miserable around here, as buttressed by this slew of evidence:
Summer is dangerous.
Unhealthy air descends upon the city in massive amounts during the summer. A great deal of research reveals that high concentrations of ozone, which loves to call Houston home, can harm lung function and irritate the respiratory system. What's more, exposure to ozone and the pollutants that produce it has been linked to premature death, asthma, bronchitis, heart attack and other cardiopulmonary problems. Ozone is so evil, it probably caused the current Gulf oil spill and blamed it on BP.
Outdoors is off limits.
Our metropolis offers a wealth of outdoor activities: hiking Memorial Park, kayaking the bayous and soccer leagues at Discovery Green are just a few examples. However, Houston's summer climate makes venturing beyond air-conditioned bubbles a treacherous task.
Basic human joys, like spreading out on the lawn at Hermann Park, are defeated because of the fire ant beds that get extra uppity when it's hot. Mosquitos are a constant threat, and a reminder of the poor choice of founding a city on a swamp.
Summer is fashion-backward.
No matter how tedious the everyday grind may become, the wardrobe transition from fall to winter to spring leaves open countless opportunities for self-expression, from corduroy and marled wool sweaters, to berets and chinchilla scarves. During the summer, closet creativity is thrown to the wind in favor of as little fabric as possible.
It's a fun proposition, but in one of the nation's most obese cities, not the most aesthetically pleasing.
The season induces social suicide.
With the inability to walk between places, citizens must spend their lives alone, trapped inside their own cars in constant prayer that their vehicle's air conditioning lasts through the summer. Otherwise, friends are quick to point out, "You look ... warm" whenever one appears at a social event bearing a drop of sweat.
Indeed, showing any suffering from the heat is a social faux pas on par with re-gifting a graduation present or wearing white after Labor Day (despite the consistently bright, toxic UV rays). However, if you can navigate the social playing field while keeping your cool, then you're bound to win friends and influence people. Which may mean a bounty of invitations to hurricane parties during this most hellish season.
Is it October yet?
