If you've never been to the Central Valley of California, there is very little that is pleasant about the warmth... Except that it is dry.
I moved to CA after getting recruited by a co-worker (and boyfriend at the time) to launch and run the camp's brand new ropes course. When we arrived in Fresno at his storage locker for my first real day in a California summer, it was 99*. While he pulled things out of the locker, I stretched out on the concrete in a ribbon of shade with my super Slushie (or whatever frozen concoction I could get my hands on) and began what would soon become an inner monologue about the heat. At one point he stopped what he was doing and said "Wait until it gets hot." What?!?! He'd left this little nugget OUT of his recruiting spiel!
As we moved into the "real summer" of June, I gradually got used to the heat hanging around 100* and was ever so thankful that it was "at least a dry heat". (It's true what they say about it's not the heat, it's the humidity"!) Most days I could make a mental note of the blistering sun and then find strips of shade behind the telephone poles that the ropes course was built from, lounge in my air-conditioned cottage during brief breaks, and drink copious amounts of ice water (Having dealt with a severe bout of dehydration from guzzling Coke for the caffeine while trying to maintain the insane schedule of driving to see my very pregnant sister five hours away as often as I could during my very limited 18 hours off per week and working 16-18 hours per day... Needless to say, I had a gallon cooler filled with ice water clipped to my body at all times that I refilled at least three times per day!) to manage my heat frustration.
One day, during family camp (a three week block in August when families associated with the University of Southern California flooded camp and kicked us out of our cabins/cottages and into grass huts or the floor of a generous senior manager's cottage (thankfully I was a senior manager and rarely had to suffer the indignity of the grass hut) and made the camp their home away from home.
It was during family camp that all rules sort of went out the window for everyone but the staff. Booze, late night carousing, and making up schedules of their own took the place of the rigid structure and schedule we had with the kids during the "regular season". One rebellious camper even snuck a thermometer onto the grounds! Gasp!
One day after lunch I left my little air conditioned sanctuary and headed back toward the ropes course for an afternoon of sun-dodging and whiny-adult-cajoling when I realized that I could barely move. The heat was so oppressive (and I was well-used to the average heat of 100-105* by then) that every step felt like I was slogging through over-heated caramel.
As I passed what had once been my cottage, one of the camper dads stepped out and said "Hey Poobah (yep, my camp name), where are you going?" When I told him I was headed to the ropes course he said "Hey, I snuck a thermometer in. Did you know it's 117* in the shade?" I stopped and stared too tired to lift my slacked jaw. I looked at the ropes course for a minute and then turned and headed for the camp office. He chuckled and went back into his cottage.
When I reached the camp office, the Camp Director stared at me and demanded to know why I wasn't on the ropes course. I told her that I thought it would be wise if we closed all of the activities in the sun for the afternoon. She was not interested in doing any such thing. Without giving up my informant I told her that I knew for a fact that it was 117* in the shade. She made a comment about the ropes course and shade and quickly stopped herself when she saw the gob-smacked look on my face. She had almost tried to convince me that the ropes course, set in the middle of a field with no shade except the occasional 12"-wide stripes from the poles, would be fine in that heat. I then beefed up my argument that the poles were treated with tar that by then were surely bubbling hot and the day could end in a lawsuit from one of our many lawyer guests. She wisely decided to close the ropes course and all of the other "sun-only" activities for the afternoon.
Moving back to the east coast after four years in the California sun, I realized that I had actually come to appreciate the dry heat. Today it's 87* or so and at least 148% humidity! I'll take 100 dry degrees over the heat and humidity any day! But... It's New England. By the end of the week I'll probably be wearing a sweater.
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