Through my foggy leaking mask, I see her approach me. Noodle Woman. She clutches it around her waist ready for entry. In her baggy pink tank suit and messy ponytail of dark hair, she stands in front of my lane. Points at it.
“I am in
Lane 2.”
Okay, I
admit it. I switched lanes earlier. I had to get out of Lane 4 in front of the
gale-force winds that swooped through the open doors. Not to mention that Cross
Butt Man had just gotten into lane 3 and was creating tidal wave action. So, I’d
asked the Nice Lifeguard, when I noticed the swimmer in lane 2 was leaving, if
I could move over there. Lane 2 is away from the door. And there was no tidal wave
action on that side of the pool. Nice Lifeguard had said, “Sure, no problem” when
I asked if I could move.
Yet, now
there was a problem. Even though the lane I had abandoned, Lane 4, was still
empty.
I told Noodle
Woman this. That she could just take the empty Lane 4. She stared down at me, her
face dark with anger and indignation. “I am assigned Lane 2!” she repeated.
“Yeah....”
I didn’t really want to get into a big explanation with her as to why I took
her lane with only 25 minutes left to swim before the pool closed. So, I didn’t.
I just offered to move back.
“I could
ask him,” she offered, pointing at Nice Lifeguard.
“Good idea,”
I said, wanting to get back to my laps with the clock ticking. She wasn’t in
any hurry.
I imagine Noodle Swimmers usually aren’t. Not that I have anything against Noodle Swimmers. My mom was a Noodle Swimmer, or more of a Noodle Floater, after she injured her back in Palm Springs when the dog knocked her over. I went with her once to her community pool, where the water was warm and calm. She floated in the lane, serenely paddling back and forth. It was one of the few times I’ve seen her in a pool.
She was so
happy!
Today,
though, I don’t want to share my lane with Noodle Woman. She seems like
trouble. And, I have to admit, she was right. I had taken her lane. But why not
just go into the empty lane?
Maybe she
was new and didn’t know the anarchy that prevailed about Lane Assignments here
in the Richmond Pools. As Liv said to me once, “I just nod when the young woman
at the front desk assigns me a lane, and then when I get out here, I take any
lane that’s available.”
Yes. That’s
what we all do.
Though I can
see how it’s confusing if you’re assigned a lane and then someone is already in
it.
I start in on my backstroke lap, deciding I’m not gonna wait for Noodle Woman to give me the Lane Verdict. I’m sure the lifeguard will just tell her it’s okay to swim in the empty lane.
And as I move down the lane, I spot her signal of A-Okay. The one where you make a circle with your thumb and index finger, the other three fingers standing up behind like those turkey drawings we used to make at Thanksgiving.
I sigh to
myself as I continue down the lane, relieved that I don’t have to move. Or share
a lane with Noodle Woman.
Later, she
and I are the only ones left in the locker room. I’m trying to hurry before the
lifeguards start yelling at us to get out. Noodle Woman doesn’t seem aware of
any time limit. She’s sitting on the bench, half-dressed, staring at the Pool
Schedule. I am sure, now, that she is new. And, I do consider apologizing for
taking her lane.
But then I
don’t. Who cares? I’ll probably never see her again. Or if I do, and she becomes
a ‘regular’ she’ll learn that the lane assignments are just a formality.
I grab my bag bursting with wet gear,
“Happy Cinco de Mayo!” Jose calls out after me.
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