If you read any type of news, follow any type of social media, or are connected in any way to the outside world, you've probably found yourself trapped in the midst of 29 million people who can't stop talking about anything except the magnitude 5.8 earthquake in Virginia that was strong enough to topple chairs and coffee cups and close down Ikeas throughout the eastern seaboard this week. It was a shock to several of my peers here in New York City to learn that the earth's tectonic plates move, and it was a shock to me to learn that city people lead such boring lives that the most exciting part of their week was feeling a building shake. Nevertheless, a rarity indeed, I can only imagine everyone's excitement as something similar to how I feel when it snows in LA. Immune to any geologic movement less than a magnitude 7.0, I actually didn't feel a thing at all. Now, in the midst of all the bustle revolving around Hurricane Irene, I've come to see that city people have an inexplicable fascination with and attraction to the drama of participating in natural disasters. All the while, I find it most odd that no one seems to be even a bit astonished more often at the inappropriateness of New York City's daily weather.
Los Angeles weather is simple, straight forward, and most of all agreeable. Summer days, in particular, with the exception of some June gloom, are invariably sunny and warm. New York City weather, on the other hand, presents a particularly challenging concept to grasp. "New York has awful weather compared to that of Los Angeles," is about as far as small talk goes. However, understanding the exact magnitude of the awfulness of New York City's weather requires careful investigation and analysis.
After living through two summers in New York, I can say for certain that April showers bring May showers and June showers and July showers and August showers – a stark contrast to the sunny days of LA. In fact, New York City experiences about three months more rainy and precipitous days a year than does Los Angeles. The chills and snow of winter is understandable, but New York City summers are naught but unreasonable, consisting of only three states of weather – thunderstorm, severe thunderstorm, and heat wave. Usually, there are four days of thunderstorms and three days of unacceptably hot temperatures, and seven days of unbearable humidity. However, as with New York City trains and buses, there is no real way to predict when and in what order these days will come.
It is perplexing, to say the least, as to why the idea of a "weather report" still exists in New York City today. Besides the MTA, the local weather programming is perhaps one of the most wasteful of all types of monetary expenditures. Why? Because there is simply no such thing as an extended forecast. The weather report in New York City changes every 15 minutes, with every hour wavering between 10% and 100% chance precipitation. 30% chance rain at 3:00PM today could mean 0%, 10%, 50%, or 100%; you will not know until 3:00PM arrives, but even then, the current weather is often incorrect. For a good part of the week, the weather forecast for Hurricane Irene was 30% chance sunshine.
This lack of logical weather makes for a particularly frustrating experience for any Angeleno in New York City when planning a beach day with friends. Beach-appropriate days must be determined on a day-to-day basis.
Your best bet when it comes to planning for weather here is to not plan at all and to only trust your senses of touch and sight. If you step outside, and the sun is shining, the weather report may say 90% chance precipitation, but you know it is sunny. Call your friends and confirm your trip to the beach. If water drops fall from the sky, the weather report may say 0% chance precipitation, but you know it is either raining, someone's air conditioning unit is leaking, or a city pigeon is urinating. In the case that you feel rain falling from the sky and see no sun, cancel your beach trip. Please note that it is ill-advised to go to the beach during a hurricane.
The next issue to discuss is the use of funny things called umbrellas. (1) Umbrellas do not fit on sidewalks crowded with city people and tourists. (2) Umbrellas cannot withstand the wind in the city. Most umbrellas which try the test of city storms end up broken and in the gutter. (3) There is never anywhere to lay your umbrella when taking the bus or subway; the only places for your wet umbrella are on your lap or on the subway car floor, which is, I remind you, the dirtiest floors in the country. Unless you insist on holding an umbrella as a fashionable accessory, it may be best to not bring along an umbrella at all.
The last issue is boredom. When it is either too hot or too precipitous – that is, every day of the city's summer – your best bet is to stay indoors. Uneventful, yes, but if absolutely necessary, you have the option, albeit the inevitably very miserable option, of going out. During hurricanes and tropical storms, though, the whole city shuts down, including all public transportation, leaving you with no other option than to stay home and, I'm afraid, pick up something called a "hobby." During Irene, for example, I hunted flies which somehow infiltrated my apartment, and I began painting with watercolours. Note that in the most unfortunate but entirely likely case the power goes out and/or your flat floods, hobbies may not be all that adequate to pass the time.
If in the event a delightfully warm and dry day should arise, be warned that all public spaces and venues for entertainment, recreation, and leisure will be overrun by 2 million other city people and tourists who are also vying for access to whatever you are planning to do.
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