To Live And Write In L.A.: Fahrenheit 117

Photo courtesy of  Fabio Rossi

Photo courtesy of Fabio Rossi

By Hassel Velasco

Currently Working On: Untitled Beatles Project
Currently Listening To: “Nellyville,” Nelly.

Currently Reading: One Hundred Years Of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Fahrenheit 117

Being from Florida, I'm no stranger to warm weather. I'm no stranger to humidity either. I'm not even a stranger to an alligator dragging a small child into a lake. I recently came across a picture of a crane chasing a child, and the caption read, "Florida is pretty much a real game of Jumanji." I couldn't agree more. Florida is not that bad (okay, it's not the worst), but there is one thing I never experienced in Florida, 117-degree weather.

Oh, Los Angeles. I enjoy the consistency in your weather. I enjoy the 329 days of summer, and the 36 days the other seasons get to share. But sometimes, your actual summer feels like the inside of an oven past the preheat stage.

One hundred and seventeen degrees is no joke. Early last week, the forecast for Sunday and Monday seemed like the forecast for the surface of the sun. A high of 102 on Sunday, and 108 on Monday. The following is a recollection/survival guide to heat waves in the City of Angels.

First thing’s first: Upon moving to Los Angeles, get an apartment with central air conditioning. Spend that extra dough. It'll help you stay sane during the summer heat waves. And if you can't get an apartment with central AC, look for an apartment with an AC window unit that works. No AC is technically an option if you'd like to suffer from a heat stroke. I don't know, maybe you're into that.

Secondly, during these hotter than hell days, try activities that'll keep you indoors for the most part (unless you don't have AC). On Sunday, I thought it'd be a good idea to head down to Anaheim and go to Disneyland. *Aggressively shakes head* It wasn't. At 9 a.m. the temperature was above 90 degrees and I had forgotten my sunblock. Sunburnt Hassel could now be a spokesperson for SPF safety.

I've heard about people going hiking and going to the beach on Sunday. I can't begin to talk about how bad an idea that is. Actually, scratch that, hiking is always a bad idea. The beach is a possibility because the Pacific Ocean tends to be colder than your unaffectionate stepfather. Dipping into the ocean is probably very refreshing. I might need to try that next time.

Even when you're indoors and enjoying the air conditioning, sometimes Mother Nature likes to throw a fast one and kill your modern technology. The AC at my place of work broke on Monday around midday. It was 117 degrees outside and 96 degrees indoors. Everyone became delirious, and my only option was to play Nelly's “Hot In Herre” on repeat for about an hour and a half. My apologies to my co-workers. It must have felt like being kicked in the groin.

Lastly, enjoy it. It's the small price you have to pay for living in Southern California. It's not a blizzard, it's not a hurricane, and it’s not an earthquake. It's just dry heat. Sure, Florida has gators, humidity, and the inane inability to prosecute someone for murder, but it's my home state. You know what they say, better dead in California than alive in Florida. All of my Florida friends will love reading that.

So to recap:

Step 1: Air conditioning

Step 2: Stay indoors

Step 3: Stay out of Florida ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

To everyone in Florida: Love you guys, be back soon.

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