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| The Rearguard vs. Summer? |
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I have lived in Portland and its surrounding areas for almost 20 years and I never tire of hearing people whining about the rain and the cold. Why? Because I love the rain and the cold and all of the complaining just reminds me that I live in the right climate.
Of course, the big secret around here is that our summers are on average fairly warm. What this means to me is that for three months out of the year, I wish I lived in the Falklands. Until I get my summer home down south, though, I’m going to have to stay here and listen to people pretend to like hot weather. I say pretend because I don’t think people here actually like hot weather. They like warm weather. And since most people conflate more with better, they turn it up to hot. In actuality, these disciples of summer fun have a pretty serious case of selective memory; one nice day out on the boat and they forget about weeks of pit-stains, sour tempers and dehydration. Now, I’m not scared of sweating under the right circumstances; such as doing something athletic, like disc-golf or sex. But, generally, if I’m only going to walk up the street to buy a snow cone, I’d like to make it home without having to change my shirt. This is why I’m a big fan of the 70s. Not the decade, but the area on the thermostat. 75 degrees is plenty warm. After that, it’s all downhill. In the right circumstances, I can see getting a kick out of “nice” weather. But when you go to school, work, and don’t drive a car, it turns out that almost everything you do transportation-wise just turns you into a big sweaty sack. Then there is the fact that classrooms in school are basically designed to stress-test the physiological limits of the human body. The air conditioners apparently work best with windows closed. In hindsight, though, it seems that welding them shut might not have been the best idea, since the air-conditioners rarely work. How many classes have I had totally wasted that could have been saved by a simple opening of a window? Too many. Oregonians don’t get a chance to acclimate to summer conditions. We may trick ourselves into being sick of the dim days, but as soon as the mercury starts to settle up into the upper 80s, we’re going to be jumping from AC to AC and freaking out every time it passes 90. 95 will be a “heat wave”, and the local news will start reminding its confused amphibious viewers important pieces of advice such as “be sure to drink lots of fluids.” Otherwise, we might all die—and then all that would be left would be Californians. Then the Californians would legislate longer summers, which would ruin the environment and make Portland just like Southern California; which is of course the place they were trying to leave in the first place. This would not bode well for Seattle, let me tell you. To defend myself against the evil heat, I usually resort to being grumpy and hanging out in air-conditioned areas. The latter helps a little bit more than the former, but you’d be surprised at how much better being grumpy can make you feel. Beer helps, too. I like spring and I enjoy the summer to an extent—the nights, especially. As soon as the drizzle stops and grey turns to blue, though, I find myself instantly looking forward to fall. The sunny days start to blur into one long stretch for me to get through until I can re-don my hoodie and walk all over town without breaking a sweat.  |
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