Being a person who has suffered from hot flashes his entire life, I have crafted a world around a constant breeze.
At home, a fan is always on. Usually, inches from my face, as I sleep. Bell’s Palsy be damned!
At work, I have a tiny desk fan also directed at my person, providing a sense of calm in a world of ledgers and spreadsheets.
What I can’t control is the outside world. I can’t bring a fan with me wherever I go (Why not??). When I’m in a store or restaurant or waiting for the subway, I’m at the mercy of a cruel, windless environment.
There are only a small number of NYC subway stations featuring any modicum of moving air. The existing ceiling fans are supremely filthy, yet I have no issues directing my eager face upwards, ready to inhale any and all mysterious black debris that dislodges from the fan’s protective cover.
I don’t care what type of substances make their way into my mouth. As long as there’s a breeze on my face.
No matter where I go, it will never be cold enough. While that 90 pound chick shivering in her winter parka next to me, I fan myself desperately with a menu and subtly wipe away boob sweat.
Luckily, tonight I dined with my dear author friend MC, who I can always rely on to be as equally enrobed in constant sweat and/or always suffering from “the vapors”.
Sometimes it’s the strangest things that bonds people together.
Sometimes, it’s just sweat.
Oh, what about the food?????
Here’s a quick summary: We loved everything!! Especially that amazing chicken.
Ok, The End.
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