Hampton Bays and Hampton Nights

Hot planes are less comfortable than cool planes. Two of my last four flights have had very little air coming out of the overhead nozzles, and what was coming out had little cooling effect. As one whose only fear of flying centers around the possibility of vomiting in public for a very captive audience, airflow and ambient conditions are critically important to me. Hot & steamy = warm & queasy. In fairly typical human fashion, even when everyone knows that there is little air to be had, we each keep fiddling with the airflow... hoping it will somehow open wider and blast us with an arctic wind. Doesn’t happen. Twist again. Nothing. Twist again. Nothing. Twist again. Nothing. Land. Get off plane.

PHL-ISP

It’s OK, she doesn’t bite, but I do.
What’s her name?
Sweetheart.
And yours?
Denise. And yours?
Doug.

And that pretty much covers it. I assume it was a dog in the little carry-on stowed under the seat next to me. It didn’t make a sound the whole flight. Not a pant. Not a moan. It was fuzzy, whether it was a dog or not is up for debate.

Twist again. Nothing. Twist again. Nothing.

From hot planes...

Long Island was covered in a moderate fog this afternoon. Mid 80’s and huuuuumid. I’m at my grandmother’s house to oversee the ol’ pack and move. The inside of the house is also in the mid 80’s and huuuuumid. The “grandma’s house smell” is pervasive... I feel as if I’ve climbed into a giant old shoebox filled with old Polaroid pictures that’s been in a basement, a basement that floods every spring with four inches of water when the winter snow melts, the same basement with two small windows that haven’t been opened in 34 years, the basement where cool means cool and damp and where warm means... where warm means... stuffy. You know grandma’s house, the place where even the ice has a distinctive smell - not what you look for in an ice-cube - but for cooled liquid refreshment on this night, I’ve loaded up my glass with the stuff. Cheers.

Two wall units are doing their damnedest to take the edge off. Westinghouse Mobilaire 5000 (turned up to 11! No joke) and Whirlpool AHJ-PO6-2 (turned up to 12... somehow not as exciting as 11) are making some progress after three hours. Some corners of the house will not feel their cooling powers, but I’ll avoid those places, for I am a delicate flower and may wilt from the oppressive heat and stifling humiditay. And you wouldn't want that.