It was hot. Really, really hot.
It was not uncommon to see people passed out on the smoldering Shibuya streets, as was Japanese summers, and sometimes when the sun was beating down particularly mercilessly, children without canteens would wander into Mexican Dog in search of air conditioning.
Only to find it worse.
Sure, there was shade inside, but with the walls came food, and with the food came ovens, and from the ovens came INTENSE HEAT. The fry cook was barely able to stand it. He was starting to have hallucinations, mirages. Was that another confused, sweating customer, or was that a human-shaped body of water in his doorway.
Hideki