I would normally be excited to be in the presence of history. I would love to have happened to be in a sports bar as Mark Buehrle threw his perfect game last week. But I really could have done without this one, not least because a town where 103-degree temperatures are unheard of is also a town where air-conditioning isn't ordinarily necessary. Or very good.
But I didn't have to suffer that much in the heat. I was mostly suffering in Seattle traffic, a delayed flight, and a wait for a car at the San Francisco airport at the Avis counter, where the motto seemed to be, "We try? Hardly!" I will be glad to be home tonight.