It’s 24 degrees and I’m on a train

New Red Hot Chili Peppers song on repeat, coat in my hand and my armpits drenched with sweat, I walk through my city. The sun has found my land and the female half of our land has found their sundresses and hotpants. Make no mistake, I’m a devoted boyfriend and a convinced monogamour. My mind doth not doubt the love I have for my better half but the flesh is weak, even if the spirit is willing.

Quickly I bounce onto a train to go far away from the west coast where the female population proves that going to the beach is no longer a luxury only for those willing to start working out in January. Nay, alcohol flows like water and food is plenty in my country. If frozen mountains melting into the sea won’t make the water levels rise, global warming will force the rounder half of our population into the oceans and our land will overflow. We will need a boat, and a man named Noah to save us all; or at least two of every species.

Do not mistake this piece for an attack on those who love food; I am one of you. Only I am one of the lucky few who can eat what they want without gaining a pound. There’s a name for us; assholes. Do not threat! You will have your revenge when my age advanced above 30 and my metabolism quickly takes a hit. My years of shoving big macs into the bottomless pit that I call my stomach will sneak up on me and corrode my arteries. Before I know it I will have to pay for multiple seats when I book my plane tickets. I will no longer be allowed to sit close to the exits and multiple people will need to push me through the door when we do go down. Maybe my life will have purpose when I’m used as a human airbag.

My train has reached its first stop and sighing, sweating people promptly find their way to the exits. When the earth is trying to sear you alive, your threshold for assholes goes down and dips just beneath the importance you put on being a good person. Elbows are now weapons, if looks could kill you’d be Jack the Ripper and while you convincingly explained to your co-workers at last month’s spring party that you are not a racist, suddenly your deep-seeded micro-aggressions turn into slurs you never thought you’d say, let alone shout at someone with a turban as he cuts in line.

The man next to me has opened his bottle of wine. If there was a universal sign for saying ‘fuck it’, drinking alcohol in public would be it. It’s Friday, you have nothing to do and this train ride might be the highlight of your day. When you get home you just know you’re going to run into your neighbor Norman who will ask about your day, being all nice and shit. Fuck Norman, the nosy bastard. Get an afternoon buzz doing so you don’t have to talk to him sober, that’ll make it easier.

Seriously though, it’s 24 degrees outside and I’m loving the effect it has on people. While obesity is a growing problem — pun absolutely intended — the sun makes everyone a little more beautiful. Sweaters are a thing of the past, to be worried about when autumn comes. Today we celebrate the universe granting us the ability to darken our skin by brightening our days. Thank you universe, you’re pretty cool.