It is so hot in here.  I wonder whether it is just too inefficient to try and put in air conditioning on a subway platform.  Taxpayers probably don't want to spend money cooling a tunnel.  A fan wouldn't be crazy.  Maybe a fan that is powered by the kinetic movement of the trains that pass through the tunnels?  Is that a possibility?  I know that there is a way that scientists, or more accurately energy companies, are trying to generate electricity from the movement of ocean waves through a series of floating buoys.

Seems like a logical choice to take that to the subway to make this oven slightly more comfortable.

Once I start to sweat, it is like the first crack that develops on the otherwise flat and secure surface of a dam.  One bead of sweat wiped hurriedly away with the back of my hand is just a hint of the coming flow.

For months I had been packing a clean white handkerchief in my messenger bag as I got ready in the morning.  Thankfully I wasn't the type of person who actually blew my nose vociferously into my handkerchief and then placed the soiled rag back in my pocket, I was simply a dabber.

Sweating?  Dab your brow.  Dabbing means you just tap the handkerchief across your forehead in an attempt to soak up a few drops.

Dabbing not working?  Now you have to wipe your brow.  Same general idea, but more of a stroke across your entire forehead.

You can feel "it" developing, and you know that once this happens, you are done.

Cautiously, hopefully, you reach back with your hand and touch the back of your neck.

Sweat.

All bets are now officially off.  Soaked shirt collars, increasingly large dark armpit stains, undershirt sticking to your back, drops of sweat slowly making their way down the small of your back.

The only thing that makes me sweat more than heat and humidity is the very fact that I am sweating.  Man begat woman in the Bible, sweat begat sweat on my epidermis.

Does sweat make me less of a person?  It shows that I am not in control of my body.  People crave and admire discipline, and the fact that your body is so hot that it is literally squirting out salty water in a failed attempt to cool itself off is not evidence of discipline.

"Look at this slob, with his sweat, and his damp shirt, and his clinging shirt.  What a piece of trash."

You try and make eye contact with a fellow sweater.  You try and do the Popeye lipped puff of air up onto your face to demonstrate that it is the air, and not your slovenly lifestyle that are causing you to perspire so profusely.

Why isn't sweating a sign of sexiness or attractiveness?  Being morbidly obese used to be admirable because it was a sign that you weren't only comfortable financially, you were filthy rich.  As all the peasants were starving to death or eating stone soup, there you were, plump as hell, gorging your self on your scrumptious food.

I could have been born in the 1200's, been fat as all hell, sweating like a pig, and I would have been the medieval version of Ryan Gosling.  Other than the 1960's where you apparently couldn't leave the house without smoking a joint and having sex with a free spirited pixie, the 1200s are clearly the best time period that I could have ever lived through.

I hear the screech.......the train is a' comin.

This train is packed to the gills.  Where did all these people come from?  The platform was empty a second ago.

Step to the side you animal, we have to let these people off.  Nobody is getting off?

The look of contempt from the people on the train as they see my sweaty visage approaching the door is a sight to behold.

MOVE OVER EVERYBODY, SWEATY MAN COMING THROUGH!!!!

In reality, "I'm sorry, excuse me, sorry, just trying to squeeze on."

The "ding dong" of the doors shutting means that you are now out of the frying pan and into the claustrophobic, "please don't let this train break down, I’m already having trouble breathing", fire.