Dewpoint (the way you measure humidity in the air, on a wet bulb thermometer) is 74, I feel like I'm walking through water. Everyone is sluggish, walking at a snail's pace. A thin sheen of perspiration, across the arms and faces of men, women, boys, girls and hairless dogs. The temperament of the people seems to be a function of the weather. Foul words and gesture, flung across traffic; gentle smiles return sour faces. Even on clear days, shining days the weather can be bad.