A New Yorker’s Relationship With Their Air Conditioner

Updated 10 years ago, August 28, 2014

The hem of your Forever 21 polyester floral dress is sticking to the inner portion of your cinnamon bun feeling thighs.

It’s summer time, in New York City.

You’ve tried everything to stay cool: sticking your head in the freezer, fanning yourself with your American Express bill, texting your best friend, Vanessa from college, begging her to nominate you for the ALS ice bucket challenge so that you have a legitimate reason to stand on the corner of 31st and Lexington and pour a bucket of ice water over your head and feel really, really good about it – not just because you’re helping out a good cause.

You could hide somewhere. Say the Starbucks on 7th avenue where the cool air is flowing and the bathroom is open to not just paying customers – but to any one of the millions of people here who need a place to pee. Gross.

You could crawl under a tree in central park and fan out a pile of branches over your head – but it’ll be dark soon and the mosquitoes will declare it dinner time, biting straight into your moist flesh.

You could go home.

You could turn on that window air conditioner of yours that you bought with an expired coupon at Bed Bath Beyond in April. Flip the switch and blast it as high as it goes. Twirling around in the cool air breeze that’s yours, all yours! But it’ll cost you. $10, $20, if you keep it on for a few nights at a time, your wallet will be looking quite flimsy. Your electric bill will look like a family of 14’s monthly Costco bill or like you just splurged on a Michael Kor’s handbag – but unless it comes with an internal cooling system so you can stick your head inside, you’re not interested.

So you know what you have to do.

You put on a bathing suit. You grab a pack of frozen veggies from the fridge and you place the bag over your body. When the bag goes warm and the veggies go soft, you toss them back into their frozen palace and you get ready.

You’re on a mission: trap cold air into your room so that you can shut your air conditioner and pass out before even realize your bedroom is probably climbing up toward the same temperature as the sauna at your gym.

You probably won’t notice how hot it is, anyway. You’ll be snoring down those zzz’s, dreaming of being the newest member of the Kardashian Klan. There’s Kourtney, Kim, Khloe, and you!

But you do notice. How could you not? You’ll wake up as your clock is switching over into the AM and you’ll be drenched in your own sweat. Pellets of water will cling to your oversized sleep shirt and your sheets will be so wet that at first you’ll wonder if you peed in them.

You didn’t. Thank god for Starbucks bathroom.

It’s summer in NYC and if you want to sleep comfortably, you better win the lottery first.