Overheated in Williamsburg

“Tell me you’re home? My eyeballs are getting sunburned…nail beds too… Your AC better be working.” New message beeped: “I don’t have an AC here – remember?” She did. For a few summers now her friend’s only resort was just a very big fan, black-out shades (indiscriminately pulled across the windows at all times and seasons) and a basement apartment nestled well under the sidewalk heat. The season hasn’t progressed there she hoped – it’s still May weather in “the cave”. Thoughts of heading toward Union Square station instead flashed…the city’s public sauna…and with that sped by. Perhaps hiding out in a chilly coffee shop would be better – at least until that AC-induced protective frozen layer forms. From there, the calculations went, it should take about at least another half an hour for the heat and humidity to sear through and by then she’ll be on a nicely air-conditioned train again, re-building the freeze factor.

But for how long is one to keep this up?. Not see her friend for the rest of the summer? Thoughts of brave ancestors, heroes of the old came to mind, sacrificing their all for friends, family, God and country, and she couldn’t even put up with a little sunburn and humidity to spend time with an old friend? Perhaps that’s the reason…but would she? More likely Tara would make up an excuse to stay at home, and find a way to bring her there instead. Kind of what’s happening right now… Dammit!… “How about we meet at Dave’s Java Pub instead?” she didn’t know why she picked that place. She didn’t drink, Tara was trying not to and it was barely afternoon. There isn’t a single Java cup Dave serves that isn’t wobbly with liquor. The reason emerged: It’s the closest air-conditioned place to Tara and she’s therefore less likely to make up an excuse. They can just drink seltzer and have a snack. Tara can handle it – did after all claim to be over drinking the last time they spoke.

That line of reasoning was followed by a sharp pang of guilt: something along the lines of it being far too early to test her friend on her drinking and that it would be perhaps a lot kinder to have just went to an actual coffee place…pretty much anywhere. But the message was already sent. She has now helped herself to a status of either an enabler or a sadistic sobriety tester. If there was a time to think quick on her crisping feet this was it. The decision (quite clever she thought) was made: go early to Dave’s, check out their food and drink menu for any safe options and shamelessly beg and bribe the staff to refrain adding alcohol to anything they ordered.

Half an hour later, the staff could not be bribed: “Consenting adults have the right to their drinks as they order them, and Dave’s has a reputation of satisfied drinking customers to uphold. If you don’t want alcohol in your coffee, why not try the Dunkin’ Donuts down the street?” Just as soon as the incredulous bartender finished the lecture, a new message again beeped: Tara agreed and she had to figure something out. Embarrassing that encounter was but it did provide an idea: She’ll find out what her friend wants and order it ahead of time, dump out the alcoholic version and replace it with one procured from Dunkin’ (the savior of all whose brains have apparently evaporated in the heat). The fact that all of this maneuvering was getting far too ridiculous to legitimately excuse was not lost on her but she was at this point past the point of common sense – too invested in saving face and unwilling to cancel on her friend at the last minute.

The moment she stepped into the shop it was clear something was wrong: The counter-people’s faces reflected concern and a good amount of bewilderment. She followed their gaze to the source of all the trouble: A smallish white bulldog splayed out smack dab in the middle of the entrance, panting, sweating, snorting and grunting as if about to cough up a higher-level demon. It was the sheer amount of noise and water coming out of a relatively small-sized dog that had stunned the onlookers. Strangely hyper one moment and then glued to the floor spreading out like a raw egg the next – it shuttled between states moment to moment, but it wasn’t doing any harm to anyone.

Distracted with the business of getting coffee she didn’t notice the dog getting restless again, looking for a cooler spot and starting to circle. In the process it somehow wrapped it’s leash around her legs – a fact only discovered once she took a step toward the exit. What ensued was a flurry of gasps, apologies, silenced chuckles, startled-than-amused looks and somewhat sincere offers to help her up off the floor. The damage was done: A network of light brown coffee stains hailing from all parts of her mostly white outfit was quickly establishing itself deep in the fabric and no amount of napkin-dabbing would help.

The dog owner was frantic with apologies, working tirelessly at marking the stains with an on-the-go stain-removing pen to no apparent effect other than the mutually-felt weirdness of having a perfect stranger tugging and rubbing on one’s body. The staff put it all in context: This was not the first time little Jimmy Two-Spots (aka “The Terminator”) had pulled the old leash wrap around on an unsuspecting customer. It pretty much happened at least once a month, but more often in the summer when Jimmy feeling anything less than comfortable usually meant someone will be loosing their footing… Amidst all of this Ann felt strangely relieved – suddenly freed from clumsy and overly elaborate attempts to balance the role of being a considerate friend with avoiding the stamp of a pushover. In a way this dog was a bit of a godsend: she now had a solid excuse for just calling the whole thing off…although it might prove a bit more difficult to explain why in the world she would need to treat herself to a mini-tub of coffee minutes before going to a coffee bar…

Tara was already at Dave’s checking out the menu when the accident happened and was more than a little surprised to now be re-routed into a nearby Dunkin’…”You know you’re supposed to drink it – not pour it all over yourself” went the rather predictable one-liner as her friend sized up the stains… “There was this dog – he tripped me”… “And then dragged you into the shop and poured a tank of coffee on you? Insolence!” Ann wasn’t amused: “That’s really funny, especially when the outfit I’m still making payments on has just been destroyed! And I now have to go home and change…” Tara went on, as if she hasn’t heard a thing: “Couldn’t you have just waited a few more minutes…?”… “You were taking too long.”… “I was taking too long? I’m here 10 minutes early! And I thought I was supposed to be “the addict” everyone’s been tiptoeing around!” Ann tried not to blush: “Well then it only felt like forever in this heat… The bottom line is, It was hot and I needed something to cool me down.”…

“How about some water, you maniac! I swear they should just sell IV bags full of coffee for you to wheel around…you are incredible!”… Ann couldn’t wait to get away: “It was fun chatting with you but I now need to go home and be an incredible maniac in a nice air-conditioned space and some clean clothes…” “Oh, come on – where are you going? You’re out already and there’s nothing you can do now about any of this. Let’s just go to my place – I don’t know if I have anything sufficiently high-end for your taste but at least it won’t be covered in coffee. And you’ll be able to suck out the last few drops out of what you’re wearing”… “You’re not gonna stop are you?” Ann simmered. “No. I’m gonna enjoy this…but I will be taking you out on the town later on to some real bars – that don’t serve coffee. That is if you can handle it…”


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