Showing posts from April, 2015

Big Trouble Now!

The pool toys were flying! Little pink pigs. Little green frogs. Little blue sharks.

I can’t help but grin, even though the pandemonium that greets me is absurd. Why the hell aren’t all these kids home in their jammies? Why are they here, at the Downtown Oakland Y, hurling plastic toys at each other, creating mayhem in an entire third of the pool?

At least not too many lap swimmers, so I choose a lane with a large round floating creampuff woman. She’s one of a club. Those women who float blissfully backwards, barely moving their hands, a sweet smile perpetually on their round moon faces. I wonder how they move at all, backwards like that? But then, maybe their creampuff mass helps? They just float and float and float; there’s no need to stick their heads underwater or activate a formal swim stroke.
And so. I join Floating Creampuff Woman’s lane. Zip down the other side of her, in a rush since I got in the pool so late. What happened to the time? One minute I’m chatting with DL up a…