We Will Sweat Together Or Surely We Will Sweat Separately
On Sunday night, day #2 of a climate hat trick we all saw coming, each day bringing progressively hotter and crazier weather, I sat in my dark den, window finally open to let whatever breeze there was play tag with the blinds. I was trying to watch The Fountain, a film I always meant to check out, although I was having trouble staying focused; it had been nearly 100 degrees outside for hours, and the thermometer showed the temperature inside creeping toward 90.
A tickle of warm air blew through the window, along with a rush of nostalgia I couldn’t pin down for a few seconds. Dark. Hot, dry air. A movie.
A drive-in theater, bingo. I spent my adolescence and young adult years in Arizona, most of that time in Phoenix, and I loved going to the drive-in. Summer or winter, and I have no memory of even once discussing the temperature. This is what we did, rolled down the windows or sat outside, ice chest in the trunk (sometimes a couple of hidden friends, too), watching “Jaws” or “Superman” or “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.”
I got a tiny jolt of pleasure at having solved the mystery, and then I turned off the movie and spent the next few awful hours wondering what we could have been thinking. I was miserable.
***
Prior to last weekend, the Seattle area had reached 100 degrees F. three times since the 1890s; I’ve lived here for two of those. We have a climate alternately described as mild or moderate, depending on how damp you like to be, but extremes are rare and, you know. Extreme.
It snows during the winter, but once or twice and often never. We get less rain than many cities in the east, including Atlanta and New York, but the clouds will get you. The sun is not our friend, and we all take vitamin D supplements.
In the summer, though, from late July until early October, we’re the driest place in the nation. We have day after day of blue skies, the lush Pacific Northwest landscape, and a high temperature of around 73 degrees. For six weeks a year, Seattle cosplays as San Diego and it makes November bearable, trust me.
So we don’t have air conditioning. In our cars and stores, sure. And a little less than half of us do have some form of cooling in our homes, but it’s not the norm because it’s not necessary. Hot days are like snow; once or twice a season, hardly worth mentioning or preparing for. And hot means approaching 90.
If I continue dragging Arizona into this, then, consider: It rarely but sometimes snows in Phoenix. It takes a peculiar set of circumstances but once in a while the higher elevations will get a dusting, and even a bit lower. Outside of town you might even, once in a blue moon, see a couple of inches.
Imagine 10 inches of snow in Scottsdale, and bitter cold that keeps it on the ground for days, and there’s our weekend. It was weather right out of science fiction; Portland hit 116 yesterday, which the day before yesterday I would have said was impossible. Or the day before that. It’s kind of hard to remember now.
***
In theory, the last time this sort of heat event might have happened in this part of the country could have been in prehistoric times. It’s random and rare and pretty near never gonna happen until it does.
And now we’re told by some that these sort of every-few-millennia events might become more common, with global climate change. I don’t know enough about the science to comment other than to nod and think, I can see it. How can I not? This has been predicted for decades, just like this. So hello, world, it’s here.
We live north of Seattle proper and west of I-5, meaning our temperatures ran 6-7 degrees cooler than for a lot of folks. We’re also less than two miles from Puget Sound, providing a little extra natural a/c. Still, by yesterday evening it was over 100 degrees inside the house, and even though I essentially sat in one place, not moving, two fans blowing on me, I got thirsty and dizzy a few times. Taking the trash out Sunday night boosted my heart rate and it took me 10 minutes to recover.
This is not nothing, people. I’m in good shape with no health issues at all, but I’m 62 and now I get it. The future climate is not going to be great for senior citizens, and in the meantime believe the health professionals. Stay hydrated, even if you’re doing nothing (it can surprise you how rapidly dehydration happens with temps that high). Close the blinds and shades, turn off the lights, and close the windows. Keep the ceiling fans spinning counterclockwise, stay still, close your eyes and think of England, I guess.
And know that it’s coming, because I can tell you for a fact that it’s already here.
