Eggs on the sidewalk

Somehow, "it's hot" doesn't quite capture it. Only the tourists and the muggers remain on the streets. At night, a hustler languidly leans against a lamp post in the French Quarter. Men in jeans and tee shirts sweat profusely. Women fan themselves to move the hot, damp air around a bit. Air conditioners run constantly, struggling to cool the baking buildings.

When I was a child, growing up in New Orleans, the urban legend was that you could cook an egg on the sidewalk because of the heat. I never hear that anymore and wonder if its just children who spread such stories.