It was hot. No one can deny that.
The cabin of Southwest flight 1909 from STL to LGA was hot as we boarded.
Of course I may not be the best judge of that. My idea of hot begins at about 73; 70 if the humidity runs high.
I noticed the heat right away, but recognized that there was little I could do about it. I also assumed that when we took off the air conditioning would kick in. It did.
I took my seat, sat back, and shut my eyes, hoping that would prevent someone from sitting beside me. It didn’t.
After a few brief moments, someone proclaimed in a loud voice, “It’s hot as Hell in here!” Apparently the speaker really meant it. The words repeated several times, increasing in volume each time.
I confess to not having spent a great deal of time or thought pondering either the furnishings of Heaven or the temperature of Hell. Thank you Reinhold Niebuhr and others.
Now, at least as far as Hell’s temperature is concerned, I don’t need to do so at all.
Because now I know.
See you along the Trail.