Heat Stroke

On Sunday I was awoken by the Renter at around noon. You might think noon is a little late to be getting up but I assure you noon was too early for last Sunday. See, I had Southern Comfort on Saturday night. The only reason I have Southern Comfort is when I can’t fit any more beer in my stomach. When I can’t fit any more beer in my stomach I am pretty lit. When I add numerous shots of Southern Comfort on top of the beer is when I end up scouring the neighborhood looking for a stray cat to fuck. The point is noon on Sunday was too early.

Anyway, the Renter wanted to go to the driving range. So I got up, took a shower, and posted a thing on the blog (because women take so damn long to get ready). It was plenty warm out so I grabbed a tank top, deodorant, and some cologne. We stopped at a health food place (McDonalds) on the way there and ate our salads (double cheeseburgers) at the driving range. Right away I put the tank top on as it had to be close to 90 degrees with absolutely no breeze. I grabbed a big bucket of balls and found two spots open on the range (home, home on the range). The Renter was going to get another bucket when I suggested we just share the one that I had gotten. That was the brightest idea I’ve had since I was 12 when I discovered how much fun masturbating is (even though back then it was without a condom on). I swear I planted my butt on the ground after hitting 10 balls. After hitting 10 balls I had sweat dripping down my head and soaking my shirt. I don’t know if it was the heat or the lack of breeze or the cigarettes or the previous night’s consumption of alcohol (which I grossly overstate on here by the way), but I felt dizzy and had to reach for what was left of my Vitamin Water (Coke). And that’s how it went for 45 minutes with me hitting 10 or 15 balls and needing to take a break. I eventually gave up and took whatever balls I had left and put them by the Renter. She might have thought that I was being nice or something but trust me, that wasn’t the case. I’m not that nice of a guy. No, this was out of necessity. If I had continued to hit balls out there in the heat I would have needed medical attention. I stood there panting and thought about what it would have been like if I were actually on a course hauling my clubs on my shoulder and walking over 7,000 yards. I could tell the Renter was getting overworked also. I wasn’t sure if she peed her pants or if it was just her ass sweating but there were definite wet marks on the back of her pants. She eventually gave up too and gave the balls to some kid who was next to us.

We got in her car and cranked the air conditioning. The Renter has a fairly new car now and the air conditioning works like a champ. I sat there in the front seat and sucked in the cold air but as cold as it was it wasn’t doing the trick. We were going to Walmart and I made some lame joke about Walmart being the “coolest” place in Milwaukee. Usually department stores have the air cranked and you shiver right when you walk in the front door. But no, not Walmart. I think they were trying to stick to their policies of keeping the prices low and kept the air on at 80 to keep the electricity bill low. I walked through the isles still sweating from the golf. People were giving me looks like, “Dude, are you ok?” as I stumbled down each isle. And then I found it: half of an isle that had nothing but fans blowing left and right. While the Renter looked for a box fan, I positioned four fans directly at me and stood there not caring how unbelievably dumb I must have looked. The Renter didn’t like any of the fans there and went over to the next isle. I bowed and thanked the fans (I have fans!) and grudgingly left the fan isle. At least that’s what I thought. As I rounded the corner I found myself staring directly at a dual fan combo job that looked like something out of Star Wars. I hit the power button and breathed a sign of relief as the blades started to turn. Now, you know how it is when you get a rental car and it’s something like a Dodge Charger with the 5.7 L Hemi engine and you can’t resist “testing out” each and every horsey that’s under the hood. Well, I’ve never had a rental car, but I’m sure if I did rent a Dodge Charger it would have far less rubber on the tires when I returned it. This is exactly how it went with the space age futuristic dual fan thingy. I cranked it. Much to my surprise (and the customers around me) the space age futuristic dual fan thingy sounded like a small jet plane. It wound up and reached top speed with a low whirring sound and a high pitched screech. The space age futuristic dual fan thingy (I could write that again if you’d like) blew faster than a bag lady giving $.05 blow jobs so she could buy a burger at McDonalds. I stood in front of it blinking so my eyeballs wouldn’t dry up and fall out of their sockets. And I stood there. And stood there. I stood there in full bliss as people were standing and staring at me. Eventually I saw a Walmart employee approaching so I quickly turned off the space age futuristic dual fan thingy (told you) and ducked down another isle. The employees might have been hunting for me, but I had managed to fix the whole sweating thing and was looking pretty spiffy with my hair blown back.

Later I went back to the same isle. The first time I was there I saw this thing hanging on the wall called a mister. It attached directly to a hose and emitted a cooling mist (hence the name I guess). I figured it was pretty freaking hot out so why not give it a shot. When I got it home I ripped open the package and dragged the hose out of the garage. By itself the mister didn’t do that much but spray a little water in whatever direction the 1.5 mph breeze was going. But then the Renter came through. She opened her brand new box fan and put it on the patio table. I mounted the mister right in front of the fan and cranked the water. The combination of the fan and the mister was absolutely glorious. I think I might have even creamed my shorts twice. The fan and mister made it feel like it was 20 degrees cooler outside. After sitting in front of the cooling mist for 30 minutes I couldn’t stand not being in front of it. Walking to the fridge for a beer left me gasping for air in the thick heat. Sure, I might have been getting wet and all but I was cool and that’s all that mattered. Well, as cool as one can be while he’s sitting outside with a box fan on the patio table blowing a cold mist over his body (kinda ghetto).

(Actually got two reactions from our neighbors. One drove by and laughed at the fan on the table and told me to go inside and put on the A/C. The other was parking his car and yelled out the window, “Where can I get one of those? That’s fucking awesome!” And indeed it felt awesome. I’m pretty sure that’s how they do it in the mountains of West Virginia.)

(The movie Deliverance still freaks me out.)