It’s brutal out there: We’re in the middle of a possibly historic heat wave, British Columbia is smoking us out, and our city is notably un-air-conditioned.

How’s Seattle dealing? We eavesdropped across downtown to find out.

Two people outside vaping: “It was 6 a.m. and I was already sweating.”

A girl at lunch, forkful of burrito bowl poised to eat, pointing at a spot on her chest: “You see that? That’s boobsweat. Unbelievable.”

Woman selling Real Change papers: “Paper? Anyone? Works really well as a fan!” Said all while fanning herself with a paper. (It did work really well as a fan. Keep print journalism alive.)

Two women talking about the sun: “It’s like, it burns. It’s crazy!”

Construction worker on the way to lunch: “I’m going to be covered in sweat before I even get to Pagliacci.”

Woman with purple hair talking to a man in Occidental Park: “It’s 95 fucking degrees, there’s no way I’m risking my office’s dodgy air conditioning. I’m going to spend that time in my room next to my shitty fan.”

Two men leaving a building. Man one: “Smells like campfire out here, it’s bad for my respiratory system, bro.” Man two: “Haha for sure bro. I feel it.”

Two tourists: “The weather’s strange, do you think there’s a fire in the area?”

Man walking around Pike Place with a spray bottle: “Let me mist you, it makes such a difference.”

Two coworkers walking to work: “I hear rubbing ice cubes on your nipples lowers your core body temperature.”

Starbucks barista: “We’ve seen so many iced drinks today I feel like we’re about to run out of ice.”

Tour group of elderly people, one old lady in a big sun hat fanning herself: “At least it’s not raining.”

ngraham@seattleweekly.com