Dry heat or not, it's just plain hot

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There's an unwritten rule Las Vegans obey. When it gets hot, we tell complaining out-of-towners that it's only a "dry heat."

Well, friends and neighbors, I'm not doing it anymore.

Tear up my membership card to the Greater Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce and kick me out of the Nevada Development Authority, but from now on, when the temperature climbs to 103 degrees or higher, I'm not telling the "dry heat" lie anymore.

Take June, for example. It was a blazing 108 or so. If a dazed visitor bumps into me on days like this and says, "Hey, it's hot," I no longer will reply: "Hot? Not really. Just as American Indians in the region discovered long ago, we Las Vegans find Mojave-kissed sunshine therapeutic to our skin and bones because of the scientifically proven benefits of vitamin D. And, I feel compelled to remind you, it is just a dry heat."

Instead, if a guy from Iowa says "Jeez, it's hot in Vegas," I'm going to reply: "No kidding! You must be the president of Dubuque's Mensa chapter. Now get back inside the casino before you burn to a crisp."

I have absolutely no problem obeying the "dry heat" law when the temperature is, say, in the mid- to high 90s. When we tell a Southerner or a Midwesterner or an East Coaster that 98 in Las Vegas is downright comfortable, we're pretty much telling the truth. I'm even willing to toe the party line when the temperature climbs to 102.

But at 103, count me out. I quit the team. At that point, my advice to visitors will be: Don't to do anything outdoors in Las Vegas unless it involves a swimming pool. Thinking about walking from The Bellagio to Mandalay Bay at 3 p.m.? Don't risk the trek -- take the bus or a cab. Got a 1 p.m. tee time at a local golf course? If the cart isn't equipped with a defibrillator, go see a movie instead. Any foray into the "gentle summer breezes" of Las Vegas is like standing in front of a gigantic hair dryer from hell.

Don't get me wrong. I love Las Vegas. I sing praises of her virtues at every opportunity. I'm no Negative Nelly or Cryin' Brian, and I'll prove it by reciting the Las Vegas Pledge for you right now:

"I pledge allegiance to Las Vegas, for no matter the temperature, she is a 'cool' city. We believe in individual rights and practice a free market where visitors and residents alike may be all they wish to be, one weekend at a time.

"Our taxes are low. Our beer is cold. Our slots are loose. Our kids are smart. Our cops are big. Our firefighters are brave. And, lest we forget, half of our politicians are in jail -- which is a damn good start.

"Nevada is good and Las Vegas is great. Amen and amen."

I believe and live the pledge. But no longer will I participate in the "dry heat" conspiracy. If this means I get put in the Las Vegas Rotary's Black Book or dropped from consideration for Lions Club Man of the Year, then so be it. Someone must stand up and speak the truth.

And the truth is this: It may indeed be a "dry heat," but that doesn't make the Las Vegas summer feel any different than leaning into a blast furnace. Our only hope is October, which, I am sorry to tell you, is 75 days away.

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