The Unofficial Blog©: Part II

By Conor & Matty

If you haven’t noticed from reading our blog, let me confirm it for you – it has been hot. As we began to drive into glorious Dixieland, I began to formulate some early questions. Is it medically safe to live in a place so hot? Do these people actually like dripping in sweat all the time? How can the stores possibly stack up on enough deodorant to sell?

All these questions I had came to a climax on Day 3 at a mass outside the lovely UVA campus. We had spent a good day touring the inferno called Virginia, and were looking forward to some AC of Siberian proportions at mass.

Walking up to the church, I broke into a brisk walk, hoping to shiver through mass at the frigid temperatures. I stepped into the church, expecting to shock my sweaty body by the temperature change. I noticed it was a large, circular building with rustic, cedar walls and ceilings. The church was full of people, and some music was playing in the background.
What I did not notice was a temperature change. I was shocked. I felt cheated. I took another look at the beautiful rustic ceiling – no fans either! Every other Simons family member was just as astounded as I.


And so I decided just to sweat it out (literally). I sweated through the opening song. I sweated through the first reading. I sweated through the psalm. I sweated in places I didn’t know produced sweat. And as I sweated through the unintelligible homily of a priest with a thick accent, I had an idea. This place was not a church; this was not a mass. Sure, there was some stained glass around and a few crosses, but with all the cedar walls and ceilings I had realized what was going on here. We were in a gigantic Virginian sauna.


Armed with this knowledge, I faced the stifling heat with a new zeal. I had a headache – but that didn’t matter. My butt had imprinted sweat-marks on the pew – but that didn’t matter. Patrick’s feet emanated inhuman smells – but that didn’t matter. All that mattered is that we exited the sauna, which, after a painfully long closing, finally happened. Dad’s conservative estimate of the temperature was 100-105 degrees. And as we stepped out into the seemingly cool 93 degrees dusk, I vowed to go to college in a place where saunas are trumped by snowmobiles!