s'hot

It's hot here in the Nation's Capital. Not hot like that adorable new Superman Brandon Routh - hot like walking into a blast furnace every time you leave the house. Sweat is supposed to be your friend - it cools you down and prevents your body from bursting into flame while running around, but it's not so good when you're walking to work and, look, another shirt ruined.

To be frank, some things are fun when DC has temperatures higher than Stevie Nicks' age (temperatures over 110). It's actually a bit refreshing to leave the air conditioning and walk into that heat - the power of nature is amazing. Of course, after walking for about twenty seconds in the heat, that power becomes a pain in the ass.

You see all sorts of people out in the heat. Mostly lowly commuters like myself that find themselves trapped. They're OK people, but don't touch them, they're sweaty.

Then there are people that sit in Dupont Circle, in the heat, just for fun (not homeless). Locally, they're known as ... "Idiots." Try to remember that one.

There are those that are in air conditioned cars, and decide to make a left turn as quick as possible at the corner, even if it means cutting off pedestrians caught in the heat and caught in the traffic. Locally, they're known as ... "assholes." Most of the time, you can also call them "Virginians," but that isn't always true.

There's also a cadre of messengers, police and others traveling on a bike for their livelihood. There's a special place in heaven for them, and it includes iced drinks.

Then. Naturally. The Runners. Those that value fitness above all - and can be seen traveling at great speeds, in the outdoors, when it is 98 degrees outside, sweat pouring off their bodies. Locally, they're known as "heart attack victims."

That ambulance better not make a quick left turn.