I Actually Broke a Sweat, Y'All

Fabulous five days in New Orleans on a business trip have finally come to a close. Newspaper and TV weather people were saying that the mercury was in the low nineties, and the heat index was over 100 (taking the humidity into account). Even I, whose name ought to be "get me a sweater" according to my friend and coworker M, broke a sweat. Not a drip down the face kind of sweat, but an overall clammy feeling with clothes that became damp and stinky. I'd brought extra shirts, socks, and undergarments in case that happened, but I wound up doing laundry in the hotel because I didn't want to put dirty funky clothes in my suitcase (plastic laundry bags notwithstanding). The smell of perspiration, plus the Bourbon Street odors, plus the stale smoke that had crept into my clothing and hair...too much for me.

Now my fellow travelers can correct me if I slip and chant my old mantra "not me, I never sweat" in the future.