CHARISMATIC MEGAFAUNA

By Quiconque

Shivering

In "Cousins?," part of Jim Jarmusch's Coffee and Cigarettes, Steve Coogan admits that he only wears his stylish overcoat indoors. Not, as one would think, because Coogan is vain and only sports his finery where he knows it will be seen by people he wants to impress, but because the air conditioning in Southern California is so high. At the time, I scoffed at his answer, even while the woman behind me in the theater murmured her agreement. How can air conditioning be too cold? There's no such thing as too cold.

I am someone who always feels warm. In fact, I have a reputation for being hot. Even strangers have picked up on it.

Years ago, I worked in the historic Graybar Building near Grand Central Station. I would take the 4 train home every night, all the way to the last stop. The train, packed at 42nd street, would be practically empty by the time it rolled above ground at Yankee Stadium. One one homeward journey, I noticed a woman seated across from me. She was smiling and laughing to herself. Others in the train had noticed her, too. I exchanged a look with my seat neighbor that said, "Yeah, she's crazy," but this is New York and the rule of survival in New York is that you don't look at crazy people too long. I put on my walkman and closed my eyes, confident that I would not be disturbed until the end of the line at Woodlawn station.

Do you see where the story's going? Of course I was wrong. I woke up at 161st Street to find the subway car almost empty. The crazy woman was sitting right next to me. There were empty benches all around us, but she had chosen the seat to my immediate right. I got up and moved across the car, only to find her at my side again at the next stop. I glared at her.

She turned her lollipop head toward me and asked, "Can I ask you a question?"

"What?" I replied sternly.

"Can I lean against you for warmth?

"Absolutely not."

She was crestfallen, "I can't lean against you for warmth?"

"No, you most definitely cannot."

She grew curious. "Aren't you cold?"

"No, I am not cold."

"You're not cold? Then you must be hot!

I grew weary. "No, I am not cold. I am not hot. I am just fine."

"You're not cold, you're not hot." She tried her luck again, "And I can't lean against you for warmth?"

"No, I repeat, no, you cannot lean against me for warmth."

She grew philosophical, "Well, it doesn't hurt to ask." No, it doesn't exactly hurt, but it is inconvenient.

I think that I am offically getting older, or have somehow become anaemic, because now I find myself looking for warmth in the oddest places. My teeth chatter during my 90 minute commute, and I actually look forward to the blast of hot mildewy air at the 59th Street station. I've taken to wearing a shawl at work. I have become a spinster librarian in a shawl!

I used to mock people who were frileux, and now I am one of them. Oh, cruel irony. I wonder where Steve Coogan got his coat.
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LINKS

DIARYRINGS

READING: Waiting by Ha Jin

WATCHING: Maury