“Yeah, but it’s a dry heat!” I’ve heard Arizonans say this since the summer temp reached 120 several summers back. I’ve said it, too—with a smile—always a smile. I never really got the joke until we went to Illinois to visit my son. I learned something. Illinois, Missouri, Arkansas, Texas—they’re all really humid in the summer. Duh!!!
No. Really. We went to the Saint Louis Zoo, and I could barely breathe. It wasn’t that hot, and there was a slight breeze, but still, I thought that I might pass out from heat exhaustion. The sweat poured off me as though I’d never experienced temperatures over 70—like I was from Alaska, instead of being the desert rat that I am. I love the heat. Honest.
On the way home, when we were driving through Texas, we stopped at a Dairy Queen. It was the weirdest thing; the windows were all fogged over. But, by the time we got back in the car, the windshield was also fogged over—from the heat and humidity—not the cold.
I didn’t know what to do. When windshields get foggy in the winter, you turn on the heat. That didn’t seem to work. It took a half an hour to clear the windshield.
When we got into Phoenix and I breathed in that hot, dry heat, I just had to smile. I get the joke now, and I don’t know why anyone would live in an area where the air is so thick you can cut it with a knife.