As you may have heard, I was wide awake at 5am this morning, resulting in my actually getting my shit together and heading to the suburbs, where my gym with it's big fancy pool is located. The only form of exercise I actually enjoy is swimming, and if I'm going to do it, it needs to be amidst little old ladies or on some remote island due to my severe body issues brought upon by 20 years of women's magazines and female role models on diets.
If it were up to me, I'd wear THIS.
Anyway, I left the ghetto at 6:30, swung by slightly-less-GhettoGas and was in the locker room by "daybreak." (It grossed me out to type that.)
I was delighted to find one empty lane as I slipped into the pool and claimed it. One either side of me were little old ladies, and although I was slightly concerned the bluehair on my right had on the same bathing suit as me, I was just happy no one was paying any attention, especially the 15 year old lifeguard who called me "ma'am."
I soon discovered that another swimmer had joined me in my lane, this one a plain looking teenage girl in one of those athletic bikinis that give everyone unaboob. As far as I'm concerned, get a TYR and call it a day, but whatever. So when you share a lane with someone, you have to swim at the same speed as them, and it's kind of customary to pass each other in the middle. As I freestyled it back to the other side of the pool, I looked up and noticed this middle aged man in a Speedo sitting right at the end of my lane, talking to unaboob. Just sitting there, both of them staring at me coming closer and neither of them moving.
The thought of coming near old man panties slowed me down as I tried to figure out what the fuck was up. I guess unaboob and her dad wanted to share a lane, forcing lonely old me to share with someone else.
I stopped before them and breathlessly asked, "Do you two want to share this lane? I'm happy to move one over."
The dad looked at me, agitated. "Whatever. If not, we can just circle."
Thank you, Mark Spitz.
The thought of circling with a family of Olympiads was not what I had in mind at 7am. I was a Sea Serpent from 1986-1990 and I recall the dreaded laps in which the pressure to keep up with the person in front of you and maintain for the person behind you would often overwhelm me and much like a gay kid in gym class, I'd come up with random excuses to get the hell out of there.
So I moved one lane over, miffed but unwilling to be intimidated out of the water by some douche in a baggy Speedo.
I continued swimming, mentally congratulating myself on being so productive and healthy. I pretended I was in a breakfast cereal commercial and looked forward to walking out of the locker room, sun shining and freshly blow dried hair bouncing.
The next thing I know, some shithead too old to be wearing the yellow boardshorts he was sporting JUMPED into the pool right next to me. I looked over, noticeably startled as he grunted, "Move over."
Shocked into submission, I moved over.
Keep in mind, I'd been in the pool for a mere 20 minutes and already, I was on my second fight. So now, I'm fucking circling with an old lady and boardshorts, who, not that I'm any athlete, was a really shitty swimmer. He wasn't even swimming. He was playing, just kind of floating around in an almost standing position as he moseyed the length of the pool.
I'm no protocol Nazi, but this was ridiculous.
I couldn't move lanes again. I didn't want to cause any more 'trouble.' I merely cranked out 10 more minutes, hugging the floaty lane divider thing so as not to touch boardshorts, and stormed out of the pool.
By 8am, I emerged from the locker room, sun shining and hair bouncing. But I'm guessing the people in breakfast cereal commercials are calling people 'shitheads' under their breath...