First time posting here, a long one so bear with me..
Summer’s can be brutal in NYC, this last one perhaps more so living in pandemic solitude in a third floor walk-up in lower Manhattan. It was early July, I spent most of my time working from home with occasional trips to friends in Brooklyn to break up the monotony. I’d been out the night before & was a bit hung over. My window AC had ceased working sometime between when I went to bed & when I woke up. My roommate was out of town I remember because I rifled thru his side of the medicine cabinet looking for something to help with the headache I awoke with. After a couple of Advil I tried to reset with coffee and a cold shower. I spent most of the day on the couch with a fan a few feet away moving tepid air around the apartment. After a couple long hours in the afternoon trying to be productive I decided that the only way I was going to improve my situation was to head downstairs to my neighborhood bar for happy hour, the promise of air conditioning & a cold beer had never seemed more appealing.