frozen coconut limeade

New York City is a to summer. Whereas some water-bound towns have cool breezes rolling in off the ocean all day, we can better rely on the hot exhale of garbage trucks. Offices are set to roughly the same temperature as a polar ice cap, but subway platforms are so unfathomably sweltering that on my first day in NYC 14 years ago, I — adorably, like the wee baby New Yorker I was — uttered the words, “Is this even legal?” It’s a rare day that you don’t walk down the sidewalk and have a window a/c unit drip you-don’t-want-to-know run-off on your head. Flip-flops may cool your feet outside, but you may never recover from seeing the new color of your toes at the end of a day, and it always seems like everyone but me has Summer Fridays. The city tries, it really does, to make things more livable: the are free, there are dozens and dozens of free , something like a zillion , and you know you see of children frolicking in spraying fire hydrants? Hardly a symbol urban decay, it’s actually . But the fact is that from July 4th on (and possibly ), anyone that has the means to be elsewhere is, and the rest of us plebes schvitz it out on the pavement.