Last night AMC aired a two-minute sneak preview of the second season of “The Walking Dead.” It’s one of the most gruesome television shows I’ve ever seen. Maybe that’s because it’s about zombies, and they freak me the hell out.
Almost immediately after watching it I went to bed, which wasn’t the best idea because I dreamt of zombies all night. Stalking me. Chasing me. Trying their best to eat me. I woke up this morning before they could get me, and thanked my lucky stars. But I would have rather gone back to that nightmare than wake up to the stifling heat in my house due to the record-high temperature outdoors.
Chicago was melting, according to my thousands of Twitter and Facebook friends, who had already been outside on their way to their workplaces. My social media feeds were streaming with folks complaining about the 90 degrees as if yesterday had been down in the 50s.
I could only imagine them slugging their overheated bodies in business suits down the street in agony. Dragging along briefcases, backpacks and lunchboxes. Moaning in defeat as the sun beat down on them as they waited for buses, taxis and trains. Damn near passing out as they waited in traffic.
They reminded me of the zombies, and though I have the luxury of working daily from home (I turned the air on, of course!), I knew exactly how they felt, but there was no way I was going out there. I was not going to be eaten alive by the heatwave!
But this is Chicago, and in the summertime it gets overbearingly hot. There’s just no way getting around it—unless you leave . . .
About the author: Audarshia Townsend is a Chicago-based features writer who covers dining, cocktail culture & lifestyle for Playboy Mobile, 312DiningDiva.com and The U's "You & Me This Morning." She tweets @Audarshia.