Bring On Fall

Bring On Fall

My messenger bag fell limp on the floor. The strap that once laid across my chest was darker than normal, and I suddenly felt my shirt clinging to my shoulders. I looked to my right and felt the dampness from my collar on my neck. Are you fucking kidding me, I thought to myself.

I had just made the walk from our commuter lot to the side entrance of our office, and up one flight of stairs. I consider myself of average, dare I say, relatively athletic health. This trek shouldn’t take more than 5 minutes, and it’s not difficult. Yet there I was, staring at myself in the office bathroom mirror wiping my chest with paper towels in an attempt to look presentable.

It’s not just the walk from the parking lot to the office that makes me drip sweat these days. It’s the trip around the corner to the taco shop around the corner, or to the Blue Line stop 10 minutes away. Shit, even when I wake up in the morning my sheets look similar to used Taco Bell wrappers.

A lot of people say that Chicago summers make up for the winters. In some ways, they’re right. When the winter lasts into mid-March, you get sick of it. But honestly, for all the hype it gets, summer kind of sucks.

Think about it: when someone says that summer is their favorite season, what reasons do they usually list? That it’s more of a laid back vibe? They’ve clearly never curled up with a book on a chilly fall day. Outdoor drinking? Tailgating, bonfires, and ski slopes. Warm weather? Look, as a person who is their best self when they’re wearing jeans, it’s really hard for me to get hyped about anything over 76 degrees. Plus, when you have to start factoring humidity into how miserable you’re going to be that day, it’s hard to argue this as a point for the affirmative.

Note: I’m not saying that winter is any better on that last note. Factoring in wind chill to what you have to wear is the absolute worst. That being said, you can always put on more blankets/jackets. Can’t get more naked than naked.

Patio drinking is fun, there’s no denying that. But honestly, doesn’t it get a little draining? I mean, literally draining. Having a vodka soda on the bar’s patio or rooftop is fun…until you step into the bathroom and see that awkward boob sweat you have as a man. Suddenly, you’re feeling a little more self conscious when talking to the cute bartender and are starting to wonder how everyone else is looking so dry.

On top of that, there’s the whole factor of feeling like you have to get in shape for 4 months out of the year. What’s the point of spending October through May wearing loose fitting, heavy clothing, only to have to shed that all off to bare your nasty ass Michelin Man body from June to September? Honestly, I went to the beach once so far this year, and I’m convinced that summer was a concept created by big fitness in order to get more people buying weight loss supplements. It’s like somehow even the out of shape people looked incredible while I, someone who runs regularly, posted up in the corner looking sad.

And so with that, I’m done with summer. I’m done with the sweat, done with the beach, done with the awkward reflection of the sun in my eyes because of the angle that it’s hitting the back of my sunglasses while I’m trying to drink a beer. Just to be clear: just because I say I’m “done” with these things doesn’t mean I’m actually done with them. I’m going to keep doing them for the time being, but I’m not going to like it.

Fall can’t get here soon enough, with its mild weather and evenings that pair well with Death Cab For Cutie albums. Bring on the winter months, with your delicious peppermint drinks and office gift exchanges. Spring’s too far away, and I usually get allergies around that time of year. Let’s get through these next two seasons first.

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Using sarcasm as a defense mechanism since 1993. At any given moment I'm either tired, drunk, or stressed out. Get at me at or whatever.

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