Hot? Man, this is nothing...

July 12, 2007

When summer frys your ass in five gallons of hogfat, like she will this weekend, you will inevitably end up talking to someone who will pull out their “hottest ever” story. This story will come unasked and will be unwelcome. It will start with the phrase, “You think this is hot? This is nothing! When I was in…” You may react violently to this story because you haven’t been able to sleep for the past four days and you are a dime-height away from considering homicide. This person will have been in Egypt or Death Valley or Greece and will attest to the truly face-melting temperatures present in those locales and, through their unique and worldly perspective, to the lack of true mercury-busting hotness in the city of cham-peens. So. Getting on with it. My “hottest, most ass-blastingly crazy hottest shit ever” story takes place in Greece. On the island of Samos, My Brother and I climbed halfway up a rather large mountain in order to get a look at one of the few intact ancient aqueducts left in the world (which was extremely, radically cool by the way). We fucking fried up there. It was about 38c near the sea, and I swear it must’ve been 45c or higher up on the mountain. And this was in September. My face nearly combusted and my heart stopped beating out of shock. Nuts.

So, dear readers? Is E-Town truly hot right now, or is this just some pussy-assed simulacrum of the real heat felt elsewhere? Are we just prairie wimps who enjoy some sort of twisted masochism because we live through six months of winter every year and feel that it is our sacred duty to complain about the heat? “Hottest ever” story, anyone?

Vignette #212

6 reader comments (closed)


ink slinger

Meh, to me, this is hot. The only time I’ve ever felt hotter was when I was in Cuba this spring. The temperature was probably about the same, but the humidity was so much worse. Being a prairie boy, the humidity always gets me worse than the heat.

I can go down east, and visit the grandparents out at the lake, and feel like I’m in hell. The temperature might only be 25C, but when the humidity is 70%, it’s killer. I’m so glad we’ve got the “dry heat” out here in the prairies.

Jul 13, 2007 • 18:07



I agree, the shit we’re currently experiencing IS hot (it’s 9:00am, +25C as I write this…). I can barely stand it, actually. The nighttime heat is what kills me. So hard to sleep. I’d take this over -30 any day, though.

Jul 14, 2007 • 09:06



i remember nights when i was a kid in virginia, lying in bed with sweat rolling off my face and pooling in my ears. we used to put our pillows against the window screen to let them absorb any coolness in the air — long minutes of waiting, spent flat on the mattress like a loaf of bread in an oven, or sitting up and staring out the window at the bugs around the streetlamp, for a few fleeting seconds of blessed chill on the cheek.

Jul 15, 2007 • 07:03


ink slinger

Mike, I agree about the night heat. I don’t mind it so much in the day. Cold drinks and fans are usually enough to make it bearable, it’s the nighttime that kills.

By the way, I just noticed that when you follow a link, it now puts a little checkmark beside it. Nice touch.

Jul 15, 2007 • 14:46



@ann: That story reminds me of roasting on summer vacations with my parents. Ah, fond memories…

@ink: I mucked with the CSS a bit. Also implemented some Flash-generated headlines as an experiment.

Jul 16, 2007 • 01:04



I remember getting up while living in Pasadena and walking a mile to a 40ÂșC classroom with no AC and dancing for 3 hours for the first half of school. That was hot. You ask yourself why bother showering in the morning because in the first 10 minutes you’re just drenched in sweat.

Jul 16, 2007 • 09:40

Samos, Vathy Town, September 2005

Samos, Vathy Town, September 2005



StreetRag is an urban weblog and podcast about the city of Edmonton, which is located in the province of Alberta, Canada. It is authored by Edmonton-based writer, web advocate, and poet Michael Gravel and is updated frequently with written urban vignettes, amateurish photographs, deuteronomous audio material, barely coherent musings and rambling ecumenical treatises. StreetRag is a love letter to a lonely prairie burg struggling with its big city ambitions and small-town feel.

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