Boston, July 23, 2012

★★ More desultory than sultry. A listlessly hot day, in which a promised threat of showers never came close to coming true. On such days, the people who design barren, overscaled hotel-convention districts should be forced to walk a few blocks of their own creations, accompanied by tired and bored small children, in search of a snack or a drink or a distraction. If they want to turn to their smartphones for help, they’ll first have to find some grim overhang for shade. “Is this a driveway? Are we going to get hit by a car?” “No, this is the sidewalk. The driveway is over there.” (The driveway is no lower than the sidewalk, and they are paved in the same low-profile brick or brick-equivalent.) A breeze after dinnertime redeemed things a little, up by the hotel’s rooftop pool, which closed at 8 p.m.

Weather ratings range from zero to five stars.