The Giant Glowing Blue Cube

 

My first glimpse of it takes my breath away. The steam rising off the surface. The lights glowing under the water, illuminating the turquoise waters. There’s nothing like a pool at night. Surrounded by the darkness, the blue glow magical and surreal.

            I can’t wait to dive in!

            But first, I had to find it!

            I was so excited. I had a reservation at the King Pool in Berkeley for the Dive Tank. I had no idea what this meant, but I didn’t care. I was on a roll here. First snagging the cancellation at the El Cerrito pool the day before and now getting into the reservation system of the Berkeley Public Pools.

            I tried lap swimming. To no avail. Once again nonresidents get the short end of the stick since they’re not allowed to sign up till 48 hours after residents. Okay, sure they pay taxes to the city of Berkeley, so I guess this gives them priority. But since the City of Richmond has NO pools open, all of my taxes are going where?

            I don’t even want to think about that.

            So, when I did get into the King Pool reservation system, no lap swimming was available. But there was something called the Dive Tank. Oh! That sounded like an adventure. I booked it right away. And it was only $3! I’m a senior in Berkeley even though I’m not a resident!

            I used to swim at King Pool in another lifetime. Just graduated from UC Santa Cruz. Lived with a bunch of college friends up on Marin. I used to walk down to this pool to swim laps. I don’t remember much about it except it was close to my house and it was always really crowded.

            That’s one thing I have to say for the Pandemic. I do get my own lane. If I can get one booked!

            So, I thought I knew where this pool was. Still, I took the precaution of putting it into the Google Maps and reading the directions before I left. Sounded simple enough. Get on 80, take Gilman, turn left up Gilman, turn left on Hopkins and then it’s there!

            This sounded familiar, but I still gave myself lots of time.

            As I walked out of the house, the phone started talking to me: “Take 32^nd street south, turn left on Barrett Ave.”

            Okay, I know this. It’s when I get into the dark streets of Berkeley (and I think Berkeley is the darkest town in the world!) that I was worried about.

            In the car, the phone stopped talking to me. Damn! I pulled over on 37^th street and jabbed at the microphone icon.

            Nothing.

            Okay, well, I know where I’m going, right? I’ve been to this pool before. And as I got off the freeway and drove up Gilman, I was still confident that I knew where I was going.

            I didn’t.

            I pulled over several times on the dark bumpy street of Gilman and punched at the phone each time.

            Nothing. It wasn’t talking.

            I pulled away from the curb, a tailgater flashing his lights at me for going so slow. Well! Where was Hopkins? Santa Fe. Stanton. Gee Street. No Hopkins.

            Till Gilman ran out and there was Hopkins. Okay, this looked familiar. I turned left. Past the shuttered Monterey Market. That was familiar. Audrey Flint used to shop there for splendid dinners of fresh vegetables and pasta. Damn, that was a long time ago.

            As I drove up Hopkins, the darkness was daunting. Again, why doesn’t Berkeley believe in street lights? Or the street lights they do have are so dim that it’s like someone was shining an almost used up battery flashlight.

            I looked for the pool. I thought it was visible from the street. Or at least this was my memory. But all I saw were houses, some with cheerful Christmas lights, but most shrouded in darkness. What was everyone in Berkeley doing on a Monday night? They were probably at a séance, evoking the dead to visitations for the new year.

            That’s how spooky Berkeley is!

            I drove past a vast softball field, it too completely dark. Then up to the Alameda with the overly bright Chevron station. Still there!

            But now I knew I’d gone too far.

            Damn!

            I looked at the time. The phone did provide this. 7:23. My reservation at the Dive Tank was for 7:30.

            I had to be close as I did a U-turn on the Alameda and headed back down Hopkins. Trying not to let my panic take over. I had, after all, gone swimming yesterday, but hell. I’d gone to all the trouble of putting on my suit, my big coat, gotten in the car and found Hopkins street.

            I wanted to swim in the Dive Tank!

            As I inched back down Hopkins, I spied some figures in the night. They were dressed in big coats with flip flops.

            Swimmers!!!!!

            The pool had to be here. I pulled over and parked, watching them load their swim gear into the trunk.

            Okay, the pool must be up that driveway. I don’t remember this, obviously, but it must be there! I got out of the car, loaded up myself with all my swim gear, and headed up the driveway. A man and his kid, both sopping wet, were meandering down the drive, the kid was whining, the dad was tired.

            What’s a little kid doing swimming at 7 at night? Shouldn’t he be in bed?

            Oh, who cares. I knew I was near the pool now and as I made my way up the crest of the hill, seeing the bold blue words painted on a closed building: COME SWIM—I grinned. The pool must be behind that building.

            Sure enough. A short line of swimmers were shivering in the dark. My we’re a stubborn lot, standing out in the cold darkness of a chilly December night. One woman was chatty. Talking about her swim schedule: “I always try to swim 3 times a week but lately I’ve had a time of it.” The man ahead of her didn’t answer. She was undaunted and turned to stare at me in a friendly way. I said hello. She nodded, “Hello.” Then she cackled in a faintly dastardly way.  

            Oh dear, a witch of Berkeley was swimming at King Pool! I hope she wasn’t swimming in the Dive Tank!

The lifeguard finally came out with the requisite clipboard and COVID-19 Questions.
“Can you swim laps in the Dive Tank?” I asked him. He nodded, “Sure, but there are only 5 swimmers here tonight, so you can swim in the lap pool.”

            “Really? Cool! Any lane?” After yesterday’s lane situation, I had to make sure.

            He seemed puzzled, “Yeah, any empty lane.”

            And, so I entered the magical realm of the giant glowing blue cube. As I stuck my foot in the water, the warmth tickled me. It was a heavenly feeling to slide into the water, the steam rising in front of me, the blue glow of the lights shining at me and the moon overhead.

            Tomorrow, I have another reservation for the Dive Tank. I saw that this is a short square pool. I don’t care. I just want to swim in the magical blue glow.

            Google Maps notwithstanding.