Not a Big Fan - 265
Hal Wastes His Wages
September 9, 2008

I As the summer temperatures tend to hover on high, there's often more than one noticeable chill in the Halleron house.

The missus is from Ireland, an island nation in the North Atlantic where the pasty white citizenry burst into flames should the thermometer reach 80 degrees Fahrenheit (or 27 degrees Celsius--and in addition to using that same silly temperature scale the rest of the world uses, they also drive on the wrong side of the road...). So it's seemingly imperative that she have some sort of icy environment similar to Superman's chamber of solitude in order to restore her internal frigidity should the blood start to boil.

Meanwhile I grew up in Syracuse, a desolate outpost in Central New York primarily known for its miserable winter weather. While it does get stiflingly hot there in the summer, most Central New Yorkers view air conditioning as a senseless frivolity, like swimming pools or corrective dentistry. Hell, that money could be better spent on a snowblower! In fact, the famous Carrier Dome doesn't even have air conditioning, with Carrier ironically being the world's largest manufacturer of A/C systems.

So I, for one, am not that big a fan of air conditioning. Not that I'm some sort of macho masochist who enjoys sweating, but I find air conditioning is simply an unnatural state of coolness that some people mistake for comfort. Furthermore, it leads to respiratory infections, circulatory problems and all sorts of quirky aches and pains. Anytime you need to bring a sweater somewhere in August because you're worried about how cold it's going to be inside, it's just plain wrong. Not to mention the environmental impact or the PSE&G bill…

I much prefer the natural relief of an open window, a big fan and fresh circulating air. This often leads to a bit of tension in my home with windows being clandestinely opened and closed by one or the other in the dead of night. I'll go to bed without a blanket and wake up shivering in the morning to find a thin layer of frost on the windows and the wife cocooned in the duvet all snug as a bug in a rug. Or I'll stay up late, wait until the White Witch Queen of Narnia is fast asleep and quietly open up the windows to bring on the thaw--until the $*@%!^& garbage truck comes by and sounds the alarm on my operation.

In an effort to reach a compromise, my Dad was kind enough to install a ceiling fan in the bedroom (thanks Dad!) replacing the harsh fluorescent fixture that previously lit our boudoir like an O.R. (the people who owned the place before us were a little weird…). It seems to be doing the trick, and with autumn on the horizon we might just make it through another year of cohabitation. But if Al Gore is right and we're looking at hotter and hotter temperatures, we might need to seek counseling before next summer. In the meantime, I got a job for you eggheads out there--if you can create a dual climate control mechanism for a friggin' Pontiac then why can't you rig one up for my bedroom? Get on it, science! Together we can fight global warming, one steaming mad wife at a time…

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Christopher M. Halleron, freelance writer/bitter bartender, writes a biweekly humor column for The Hudson Current and websites in the New York Metro area. He spends a lot of his time either in front of or behind the bar in Hoboken, New Jersey where his tolerance for liquor grows stronger as his tolerance for society is eroded on a daily basis. Feel free to drop him a line at c_halleron@yahoo.com

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