Hot town, summer in the city... Humming Joe Cocker's very appropriate hit on these boiling hot July days, I move along the street slowly, feeling a profound sense of loss - of will and body fluids. Crammed in the bus between a Rubensian 45-trying-to-look-30 lady and a gentleman (hardly worthy of the name) who seems to have bathed during the OJ Simpson trial for the last time, I struggle for a breath of air. I do not presume so far as to say fresh air, because the mixture going down in the most intimate parts of my lungs is made up of cheap deodorant, exhaust fumes and sweat. A sudden commotion at the middle of the bus crams me even harder between the above mentioned personages. An elderly man fainted. He disobeyed all warnings regarding exposure to heat and drinking alcohol because he had "an outing with an ol' mate from work". Remembering his heydays as a construction worker, he tried to bring them back with a pint of rum and 2 hours of chatting under the merciless, glaring sun. A few street corners away, a similar scene. This time an elderly lady, who notwithstanding the sun et al., decided not to ruin her hairdo with a hat. Youngsters also fall victims to the sudden wave of heat, defying doctor's suggestions, parents' advice and the most basic common sense. Fashionable itsy-bitsy-teeny-weenies and daring skaters alike find themselves in the unglamorous and uncool position of being helped into an ambulance and hydrated by way of an IV tube. I see all these and another tune flutters by my ears: mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun. Mad dogs and Romanians, more precisely. Truth be said, I haven't seen many stray dogs in the midday sun, mad or sane for that matter. Most of them wisely kept in the shade of trees, bushes, benches and whatever shade providers available. But Romanians valiantly challenge the scorching sun bare-headed, skimpily-clothed and alcohol-imbibed. The "why" in question is curtly answered with a "because". More to the point even, why not? Don't we have ambulance services? Doctors? Hospitals? And since they're there, provided by our beloved and newly-voted local authorities, why bother? Between bravery and doggone stupidity the line is thin. Sometimes, thinner than a ray of sun. And even if the colonial days are gone, the spirit remains. In tropical (or continental) climes there are certain times of day when all the citizens (should) retire (eventually) to take their clothes of and perspire; it's one of the rules that the greatest fools obey (one might think). But mad dogs and (especially) Romanians go out in the midday sun. God bless Noel Coward and all the Romanians who keep the spirit of his song alive!