About one week ago here in New York City, I found myself digging out a jacket from my little storage bin. I had put most of them away once the weather started to turn warm enough for comfortable open toed shoes on the regular. It seems that weather in the Big Apple is just as finicky as back in Florida, though, and so I found myself needing the warm makery once again.
Flash forward to the now times…it’s hot as balls! It feels like the sun decided to hop on down for a day of sitting directly on my head. You give me food, sun, you give me life. Don’t think I’m not appreciative, but holy fuck monkeys you’ve got to stay further away. We’re talking somewhere in the 80s at night, people. Several mornings now I have woken up in a puddle of my own sweat. A puddle! I sleep naked and uncovered…this should not be a thing. This weather, friends, is full of yuck.
Native Floridian that I am, I am more than able to handle hot weather and, worse, humidity. Compared to the man meat of the US, New York City doesn’t even get humid. It’s just not a thing that happens. But coming from Florida also means that I’m very used to central air conditioning…everywhere! New York apparently disagrees with this concept.
And so the time has come, my friends. That dreaded but oh so necessary time has finally come upon me. I have forked out for my very own air conditioning unit.
Something I forgot to invest in before purchasing the ten thousand pound AC unit was a little trolley cart that everyone here seems to have. I’ve made due well enough without one thus far, so I hadn’t considered it necessary. Holy moly shit monger, I was very wrong. Walking home from Best Buy in the 80 degree nighttime air, up and down the subway steps and what felt like miles upon miles of blocks from building to train to apartment was painful to say the least.
Luckily for me, as I was hobbling my way from the train stop to my apartment, I passed this beautiful black woman in a bright orange blouse. Then I stopped to readjust the AC box. Then I passed her again. We danced this dance of ours a few times, me switching from holding from underneath to hugging it to hoisting the box on my right shoulder. Finally, while I was squatted on the side walk dripping like a beast balancing the box on my knees, she come up to me.
“Put it on ya head,” she sang to me in some island accent. “That’s how we carry tings…it’s easy on da shoulders, and ya move fasta dat way. So put it on ya head.”
“It’s really quite heavy,” I replied. She seemed amused by my skepticism.
“So ya need he’p getting’ it up der? I’ll he’p.”
This lovely lady, a stranger on the street, helped me place the box on top of my head and spotted me until I had it balanced. She smiled like a proud mother once I was standing tall.
“Ya see?” She had that amused grin again. “I see,” I said feeling refreshed and ready to move on. “Thank you for your help.”
We started walking in the same direction once more, but when I reached the next intersection and turned around, she wasn’t to be found. Truly, truly, truly…thank you lovely stranger lady.
The last four or so blocks flew by like nothing. I had to shift the box a few times to maintain balance, but I made it home in one piece. I have more bruises and cuts from trying to hold the box all the regular ways than from my adventure with it on my head. In fact…no pains from that at all. Maybe I’ll have to try it more often.
Anyway, the AC unit is installed, and life is much better. I have woken up without sweating like a nasty mcnasterson since it was put in place, and I think it will be well worth the cost and effort. Now I need new curtains to block out the sun more thoroughly in my eastern facing window. But that’s an adventure for another time.
Have you received any kind of help from a total stranger? Or have you been that stranger for someone else? Let me know! I want to hear all about it. For now, my friends, happy Monday Fun Day.