Church of Vornado

We don't get to church much. We went for Easter Sunday because a friend wanted company for the holiday service.  I'm not going to talk a lot about the church itself. I'm tempted, because it's in our neighborhood (that's neighbourhood here) and the music was phenomenal, and it's very welcoming. The openly gay minister joked about going to heaven and meeting Anita Bryant and asking her whether she'd gotten over being homophobic. "And then I'd say, 'good.' Now will you please let one of us do your hair?"

What I really want to talk about is the fan. The place was packed, so it was hot, and the fan was on. It was up there next to the choir (which was huge and terrifically on-key) and next to all those microphones.  So you might think I noticed the black box of blades because of the fzzz sound chuffing through the hymns. Or maybe the chutch chutch chutch of blades.  Nope. I noticed because one little piece of hair on one particularly well-coifed choir boy kept flipping up. (I'm thinking the rest of his hair was profoundly waxed). That's it.  Not a sound. Not a whir.

The whole choir looked quite comfortable throughout the 1.5 hour service. (Quick translation for those who attend quiet events with children: that's 4 games of guess-that-doodle, 14 games of Tic-Tac-Toe, and one 10-minute nap for a 9 year old in an unnaturally fluffy purple dress).  We squirmed, we shifted, we stripped down. But not the choir. They were the picture of calm and cool, serenaded by the barely discernable whisper of the Vornado® 630B Air Circulator. Yeah, I could tell from my seat in the balcony. It was one of ours. Quiet and efficient. That baby moves air for up to 70 feet. That means, everyone on the first floor felt a little fresher, a little cooler. They all breathed a little easier. And chances are they don't even know why.  But I do.