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Sweating alone
Yesterday evening, I encountred the bane of the summer commute: The unairconditioned el car. When I felt the first blast of heated air, I told myself Maybe it's been sitting in the yard for a while. Maybe so, but the fact remained that what was coming out of the vents was in no way cooler than the air already in the car.
So I weighed the merits of coolness against the merits of quiet and decided I'd rather have a car all to myself, even if it were 100 degrees inside. I also seized on the banging-your-head-against-a-wall rationalisation: Think how much cooler the outdoors will feel after this!
I began to take a perverse pleasure in watching everyone who boarded exclaim about the heat and make a beeline for the emergency doors in order to cross to the next car. Yes, flee, lesser mortals! At some point, it occurred to me that I might be luring some of them in, since an empty car on a busy train is far more suspicious than one with even a single highly visibile passenger.
So I weighed the merits of coolness against the merits of quiet and decided I'd rather have a car all to myself, even if it were 100 degrees inside. I also seized on the banging-your-head-against-a-wall rationalisation: Think how much cooler the outdoors will feel after this!
I began to take a perverse pleasure in watching everyone who boarded exclaim about the heat and make a beeline for the emergency doors in order to cross to the next car. Yes, flee, lesser mortals! At some point, it occurred to me that I might be luring some of them in, since an empty car on a busy train is far more suspicious than one with even a single highly visibile passenger.