I’m a Canadian who hates all temperatures above 60, and I’ll tell you that humidity always matters. I had the luxury of traveling to Phoenix in July, and that was still more tolerable than anywhere that was 20 degrees cooler but 100% more humid. Heat isn’t so bad when sweating still works.
Okay, then maybe the hot and dry areas in the West aren’t as bad, as long as you have enough water. But in Texas and Florida, it regularly goes up above 105 and it’s 100 percent humidity, for long stretches of time. Basically 100 percent of the time, in Florida (and a lot of the Gulf Coast, in general).
I once had a July layover in Moon Moon airport, as I like to call the ridiculously named travesty that is “Sky Harbor Airport” and went up to the roof to smoke. I’m telling you, going out towards the edge where it was more windy was like standing in a fucking blast furnace!
Add that, after getting maybe an hour of sleep since it was hotter than Beelzebub’s butthole, I missed three flights because their self check in machines couldn’t deal with me having a Scandinavian character in my name and they had one customer service worker for every 40,000 travelers and it wasn’t a great first visit to my then GF.
I’m a Canadian who hates all temperatures above 60, and I’ll tell you that humidity always matters. I had the luxury of traveling to Phoenix in July, and that was still more tolerable than anywhere that was 20 degrees cooler but 100% more humid. Heat isn’t so bad when sweating still works.
Okay, then maybe the hot and dry areas in the West aren’t as bad, as long as you have enough water. But in Texas and Florida, it regularly goes up above 105 and it’s 100 percent humidity, for long stretches of time. Basically 100 percent of the time, in Florida (and a lot of the Gulf Coast, in general).
I once had a July layover in Moon Moon airport, as I like to call the ridiculously named travesty that is “Sky Harbor Airport” and went up to the roof to smoke. I’m telling you, going out towards the edge where it was more windy was like standing in a fucking blast furnace!
Add that, after getting maybe an hour of sleep since it was hotter than Beelzebub’s butthole, I missed three flights because their self check in machines couldn’t deal with me having a Scandinavian character in my name and they had one customer service worker for every 40,000 travelers and it wasn’t a great first visit to my then GF.
Conclusion: settling Arizona was a mistake.