Adventures in Gastronomy

I do love spring. Heck, I love nearly everything about it: I love how things bloom and how trees and grass and shrubs all get so plush and green. I love going for walks in the city when it’s not too hot (you sweat) or too cold (you go numb).

But there is one little thing that I dislike this time of year…and that’s the climate control balance.  You see, I’m a sweater. I also walk fast – and that doesn’t help the problem. But this time of year in particular, I get a bit moist as I walk about. It could be 40 degrees outside (as it was this morning) and my walk to the subway will result in my undershirt sticking to my back.

That in itself isn’t all that bad. My problem is that the subway cars still find it necessary to blast the heat as if it was ten degrees below zero. My only explanation for this is that the subway car drivers are not running to catch trains. They’re sedentary for the most part and not working up a sweat. Consequently, they’re comfy with the warmer temperatures. The riders, on the other hand, are dripping. Or trying to remove coats and sweaters in a crowded train while the train rocks back and forth.

There is a silver lining this time of year, though. The subway stations underground still remain cool so if you have to wait a few minutes for a train, you can cool off a bit. In the fall, when the stations have warmed up all summer and are hotter than the outside air – this becomes a problem and I sweat ridiculously while waiting for my trains. I often think I must look like a terrorist since I sweat crazily, then get self-concious about it. I must appear to be plotting something sinister when all I’m really plotting is a way to generate cooler temperatures…or a fan…or a subterranean swimming pool.

I wasn’t able to scan any photos this weekend since I was at Randy’s….so I’m at a loss about what to post today. And am having trouble coming up with a theme. The best I could come up with are costumes and uniforms I’ve donned in the past.

1978 – I’m the short one in the, gasp, Toughskins.

1987 – Before heading to a Halloween Party. I’m a pimp…my friends are my ho’s. We’re not even old enough to have a driver’s license…yet our parents didn’t have a problem with us dressing up as pimps and hookers? Go figure.

1987 – A close-up of my pimp ensemble: gold chains, greasy hair, polyester leisure suit…and sad fake moustache

1988 – Ah, Orange Julius. Good times.

1994 – Record Town/Saturday Matinee. We had to wear tuxedo shirts and bow ties every day. And, yes, there was a 1957 Chevy Bellaire in the store. The store has since closed and this spot is now a Barney’s.

2005 – Me…as super hero (I think my friend was a bit generous with the abs…and a bit cruel with the crotch).

March 26th, 2007
Categories: Uncategorized . Author: snarl

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