I grew up with air conditioning. As a product of the Northeast region of the United States, we had hot, humid summers and from the classroom to the bedroom it was a consistent envelopment of frigid air piping through the area.
For better or worse, my environment was addicted to air conditioning. Walk down Fifth Avenue on any given day and you will feel drafts of Arctic chill wafting from the open doorways.
Living in Europe for the past six years, air conditioning is a different story. Through relationships and circumstances, I’ve rid myself of the air conditioning addiction and now I cannot stand it. Of course, there are insufferable days where it is necessary, but generally speaking, my body has reacclimatized in a way where the colpo d'aria often leaves you sick and with mixed sleep.
Once you take this perspective, AC addiction becomes amusing. If you walk into any midtown office in the middle of summer employees are wearing fleece jackets to survive the indoor polar temperatures.
On the other hand, it can be a marvel. I spent a summer working in Singapore and air conditioning was often referenced as the greatest invention of the 21st century and almost religion. Generational enthusiasm for functional human beings. In the words of Woody Allen, “Between the pope and air conditioning, I choose air conditoning.”
Well, I choose opening the window.