Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Naked City

We're getting close to the really hot part of the summer, where NYC becomes basically an asphalt-covered bonfire and walking from your job to the subway leaves you slicked with sweat and street grime and you're so tired you kind of envy that homeless guy who's sleeping pantsless in front of a closed-down bodega because you feel like doing the exact same thing and you wish you had his lack of shame. Yeah, yeah, I know he's homeless and probably really sick and miserable and I should kiss a Leprachaun's ass that I'm not in his ratty shoes; I'm just saying he looks comfortable.

Anyway, my point is that New York gets ungodly hot for a couple of months out of the year. The key part of that sentance is the couple of months" part. Our heatwaves are short, at least compared to the rest of the country; the parts below us on the map, anyway. Because of that, from about late-June until the end of August, the city becomes...

!!!Nude York City!!!

People, both men and women, go completely insane here when it gets hot. Women walk around with strategically placed Fuck Bush stickers and skirts short enough to be classified as belts. Men are shirtless, always, and most wear those nylon running shorts that are split up the sides almost to their hip bones. Gallons of tanning oil are sprayed on us by those planes that they fight forest fires with and everyone's drinking Jamba Juice until the parks reek of mango pulp and protein powder.

That is only a slight exaggeration. I've lived in other hot places before and, compared to New York, it was like living amongst a particularly rabid sect of the Quakers. California is always warm, so everyone's already over it and just dress like normal people (except in Venice Beach, where it's still 1985 and people still rollerskate and wear Ocean Pacific clothes) and in Texas, you could walk down the street completely naked and folks would just shrug, spit and take another long pull of their Shiner Bock. Austin, in particular, could give a shit.

But here it's just crazy. Hang out in Union Square park on a Saturday in July and you'll never need to go to a strip club again because you've seen all the nipple, inner-thigh and man ass in the tri-state area that you'll ever need to see. And this is in the middle of Manhattan! If you haven't gotten laid in a few weeks, don't go to the beaches on the outer fringes of the burroughs because your brain will implode from the horny.

Anyway, this is an excerpt from my forthcoming book, Why New York City Is Better Than Your Town. It's in the Everyone's Naked chapter.


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