AN ODE TO HUMIDITY

THE HUMIDITY HERE IS AN OBSCENITY
IT IS A SACRILEGE
THE SUN IS A MONSTROUSITY FILLED WITH HATE
THE AIR IS AN ABOMINATION
PURE SALTY FILTH IN GASEOUS FORM
IT RUINS THE SKIN, TEARS AT THE LUNGS, AND CRUSHES THE MIND
IT BLEEDS THE SOUL DRY THROUGH EVERY PORE ON YOUR BODY

IT IS SO HUMID HERE, MY ARM HAIRS LOOK LIKE I’VE HAD THEM PERMED AT THE SALON. MY FACE IS A CONSTANT SHEEN OF GREASE AND SALT. RIVERS OF FILTHY PERSPIRATION FLOW OFF OF ME FROM PARTS OF MY BODY I WAS PREVIOUSLY UNAWARE COULD PRODUCE MOISTURE .

“BUT JIM,” YOU SAY, “YOU LIVE ON AN ISLAND. ISN’T THERE AT LEAST SOMETHING OF AN OCEAN BREEZE TO ENJOY?” I REPLY, “YES, THERE IS… AND IT IS AS REFRESHING AS A HAIR DRYER TO THE FACE.”

TEACHING CLASS IS A BATTLE OF ENDURANCE, TESTING MY BODY’S ABILITY TO MAINTAIN ENOUGH INTERNAL HYDRATION TO STAY ALIVE FOR THE NEXT HOUR. I DON’T SIMPLY SWEAT. I SPRAY SALT WATER FROM THE ENTIRETY OF MY EPIDERMUS. BEFORE EACH CLASS, I SET UP THE SAME SIGN THEY USE AT SEA WORLD ATTRACTIONS. “IF YOU ARE SITTING IN THE FRONT ROWS, YOU WILL GET WET!” HAVE YOU SEEN THE SWEATY DANCE ROUTINES FROM THE MOVIE “FLASHDANCE”? I UNINTENTIONALLY RE-ENACT THOSE SCENES ON A DAILY BASIS. A SLIGHT TWIST OF MY HEAD SENDS A FOUNTAIN OF WATER DROPLETS SHIMMERING THROUGH THE AIR. I LIVE… THEREFORE I SWEAT.

I DON’T MUCH CARE FOR THE HUMIDITY HERE.