Jump

A few years ago, while I was still living in Chicago, I met up with a friend on the Lake Michigan waterfront. We sat on the edge of the cement walkway, a few feet above the water. It was bright and clear, hot but not too hot to sit out in the sun. Because I'm constantly coming up with crazy ideas, I told my friend that I had this urge to jump into the lake in order to cool off. I remember the water as being blue, not particularly clean looking but an invitingly short drop away. And because I never follow through on my crazy ideas, I watched instead as my friend leapt into Lake Michigan. He hauled himself out of the water, clothes completely drenched, sat down again beside me, and resumed our conversation.

It's brutally hot today in New York City. Heat that constricts one's chest like a vise. It's shorts and a T-shirt but sweat still pouring down one's face hot. The subway stations are worse than ovens--they're like broilers today, people crisping in their suits while they lean over the sides of the platforms, cursing at the trains that never show. Surely someone must have keeled over today in the middle of the street, somewhere in this blasted city.

I wish I'd jumped into the lake too.

Filed in: Miscellaneous