I want a hot summer. I’m ready.
I want it long and merciless. I want the airco failing, the pavement melting, the radiator – on my neighbor’s car – erupting. I want to drink liter after liter of cold water – and beer. Evenings spent on the roof just crunching ice cubes with my teeth. Sleeping without covers and washing the sheets day after day. Too many (cold) showers, too much sweaty laundry, the dog shifting endlessly from one cool spot on the floor to the next.
I want the shops to run out of fans. I want Sarkozy to resign because the doctors can’t keep up. I want to see a convention of global warming nay-sayers down on their knees begging God to forgive them their sins (“Lord I believe! Help my unbelief.”). I want to see a full page apology to Al Gore in the New York Times. I want the records broken, the weather guy – in short sleeves – declaring that the Summer of ’76 was a picnic for wimps. Welcome to 2010.
I want long, lazy strolls in the park in the evening. Nicely tanned bodies, people looking for shade, a run on ice cream and sun glasses and flip-flops. I want to see Hillary Clinton in a summer dress. I want nights of torrential thunder storms, the promise of relief dashed in the morning by yet another hot, sunny day. I want that wonderful sensation of diving into a cool, clear pool.
Come October I want to have forgotten where I left my coat.
I’m sick and tired of these half-baked summers where everything is green and moist and cool. C’mon! Give us a Summer! Bring it on!