Temperatures outside hovered around the 90's. Inside the apartment, where the heater ran constantly despite our best attempts, temperatures were WELL over 100 degrees. SO HOT! Hot hot hot, miserably hot. Too hot to sleep, which is the point of the story.
A little background: sometimes, I'm weird when I sleep. I used to sleepwalk all the time as a kid. I'll often wake up kicking my legs violently, dreaming about falling down short flights of stairs. On a couple occasions, I've woken up screaming (and scared the crap out of people, trust). Story, resume!
After trying fitfully to get to sleep, on this hot hot hot night, I had some nightmares. I don't remember, but apparently I talked to Eli in my sleep. I told him I had a nightmare, that I was burning in hell. According to Eli, I said the nightmare happened because it was so hot in the room. He offered still-sleeping me to go buy a fan for the bedroom, and in my sleep, I thanked him and here's what he did.
Bitch called a cab, and rode to a Rite Aid in Harlem at 3:00 in the morning, bought a big electric fan, got back in the cab, carried it up four flights of stairs, plugged it in, aimed it at still-sleeping yours truly, and turned it on.
At this point, I woke up, noticing how suddenly cool it was, and asked, "Where did you get a fan?" He told me what had happened, and after I stopped being furious with him for going to Harlem in the middle of the night, I was beside myself with thanks.
I think that guy likes me. I might even go so far as to say...
...he's my biggest fan.
(the feeling is pretty mutual, too)