Friedearman

Stop the Presses column by Chris Graham

Global warming … sucks.
“Hey, man, how was the beach?” my friend Eli asked me when he saw me on Sunday.
I looked like a lobster after the boiling water, for the record.
And I hadn’t been to the beach – or anywhere near it.
“Just went to the football game. And sat in the upper deck. And, you know, got fried,” I replied.

Sunday was the first day of fall, so technically Saturday was the last day of summer. Even though we’d already had a week of fall weather leading up to the game in Charlottesville pitting UVa. and Georgia Tech.

It was so chilly one morning that I swear I had frost on my car.

And then Saturday, it was a bazillion degrees.

“I’m dying out here,” I said more than once to my college roommate, Jay, who was at the game with me.

For those keeping score at home, he didn’t seem fazed at all that I said a little later that I thought I was having a heat stroke.

“I … need … wawa …” I struggled to say midway through the second quarter, before stumbling down from Row S to the concession stand to pay $3.50 for a room-temperature bottled water.

And given that room temperature was 98 degrees Fahrenheit in the shade …

“Hey, at least it’s cooler than the air temperature. So you know, relatively speaking, this is quite refreshing,” I managed to say upon rehydrating myself.

The sunburn that resulted from my day in the sun – did I mention that the game went almost four hours? – has been the worst of my life, by far.

The skin on my ears is peeling, y’all – and the tip of my nose is next; I can just feel it.

So … what does this have to do with global warming?

I don’t know, exactly – all I know is that it’s danged hot outside, and I can’t stand it anymore.

Chris Graham is the author of Stop the Presses: A Collection of Columns. More information on the book is available at www.authorchrisgraham.com.