I am unusually tired tonight because I went to the pool at lunch today. The pool I go to in the winter is such a freak magnet. My summer pool has the mermaid, it's true, but Stacy Pool wins the freak crown by virtue of sheer volume.
At this pool, I have seen a man pull his beard up over his face to better sun his nipples. I have seen a man in a Speedo two sizes too small aggressively checking out the women to make sure that they are checking him out (they are, but probably not in the way he thinks).
I have been denied the use of the shower at this pool because two grown women took turns splashing around in it while making noises that ranged from moans of raw sexual pleasure to a series of joyful boops while I stood there waiting, wrapped in a towel and trying to look like I was minding my own business. Like there is any such thing as your own business in that sort of situation. I was actually very resentful at the time. I just needed to rinse the chlorine out of my hair really fast, and they would not stop fucking around even though they knew I was waiting.
It's always someone or something at that pool. Today I saw the guy who once punched a few panels out of the front door of my old apartment because he thought it unjust that his ex-girlfriend was inside hanging out with my roommate. We exchanged a half-smile of recognition but didn't say anything to each other. Really, what do you say to a guy who destroyed your front door in a fit of rage ten years ago?
Anyway, that was nothing compared to the woman who was getting ready to dye her hair in the pool's changing room today. It looked like she either had no home or not much of one, and her things smelled so strongly of cigarette smoke that even I had a hard time breathing around them.
The entire time I was getting dressed to go back to work, she was either disrobing or walking around naked, getting the dye set up.
She was very chatty, in an alternately charming/snarling way. She asked me, in a very nice and interested way, how often I swam. And did I like it? Did I consider myself a swimmer? I answered her (sometimes, yes, no), and then--by this point she was totally naked--she started muttering darkly about kids today and how they all liked to skate and they thought they could be Olympic medalists, but pfft! they'd see.
Then she abruptly changed course and asked me to help her open the
developer packet. At this point I was half dressed myself but working
to rectify that as quickly as I could so I could get out of there.
Fortunately, just then she was able to get it open and said never mind.
When I left, she was still totally nude but preparing to don a plastic smock, I guess so her shoulders didn't get stained by the dye? It was all very confusing. She sweetly told me to have a good weekend. I looked her square in the eye because there was really nowhere else I could look, and I said it had been nice talking to her, which wasn't entirely true but wasn't a total lie either. All I'm saying is that when they say "public pool," they're not kidding.