It’s Thursday morning at 7 a.m. in New York. As you walk into a blanket of heat in the subway station, you’re overcome with emotions as you embark on the roller coaster that is your daily commute in the summertime. God speed.

Shock. It all begins when the subway car door opens and you’re hit with heat, humidity, and questionable odors. As you cram yourself into the car and under a man’s sweaty armpit, the agonizing thought of how long it’s going to take you to get to work makes you begin to lose your mind. Ready for what’s next?

Denial. You can’t accept the fact that you have no choice but to make the torturous trek to work. Standing uncomfortably against another person’s moist back as sweat drips down your face from the man’s armpit above you, you begin muttering to yourself like a lunatic. For a split second, you convince yourself that you’re going to jump off the train and run 40 blocks to work. Nope, that never happens.

Anger. When you realize you can’t jump off the subway, misery sets in and the aggressive groans and moans come out to play. With no shame, you angrily blurt out, “WHAT THE F*#$?!” and “F my life,” followed by many awkward, aggressive noises.

Bargaining. When your mouth is exhausted and you’re beyond the point of profusely sweating, you begin begging out loud, to no one, “If we could just go a little faster, I swear I’ll give a dollar to a bum on the street and go to church on Sunday.”

Never mind guilt. Depression. The train isn’t moving any faster than you wish it would. The man with the sweaty armpit that you’re stuck under isn’t getting off at an earlier stop then you. You can’t move an inch. Your back is moist. This is your life; it is what it is.

Acceptance. By now, you’ve succumbed to the heat and every stage of the subway commute hell. As the doors to the car open, you’ve finally accepted the fact that you’ll be walking into work looking like a hot mess with armpit sweats glistening from your forehead.

Finally, you arrive at your destination. A cool breeze blows into your face as you approach your office building— a brief gesture of pity from Mother Nature. Your only hope now is that the heat causes an electrical fire in your office, canceling work for the day, the week, maybe for eternity. Fingers crossed.

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