Hottest town, summer in the city: New York heat makes me want winter back | Dave Bry

I can't wait to be able to complain about snow and ice and everyone's stupid big giant Canada Goose parkas again

Despite what it says on the desk calendars at Kinkos copy shop, there are really only two seasons in New York City: summer and winter. They're both completely unbearable, sadly, with an all-too short reprieve between them. "Spring" and "fall," we call those fleeting dreams, laughing at ourselves for momentarily believing in them. Then we sigh.

As you know from watching Seinfeld, New Yorkers are a famously complainy lot. One detects a type of civic pride in the kvetching you hear here. ("You think you're schvitzing? I schlepped all the way from Brooklyn, and the AC on the F went kaput!"). In choosing to live in New York, we choose, for some reason, to live in unpleasant conditions: traffic, crowds, extreme weather conditions and catastrophic amounts of dog poop. Why do we do this to ourselves? A masochistic streak perhaps. Or something about wanting to build character: "If I can make it here," etc.