Today marked one of my annual winter in Florida rituals. I went to the pool. That's right, I actually put on a bathing suit (I apologize for attacking your mind with that visual, which may stay with you right through the night), and went to the pool where I sat in the sun, read a book, and, yes, actually went into the water. Some swimming might have occurred too. I do this about one time each winter for reasons that aren't quite clear to me. It's not that I can't swim. I went to both a high school and a university that required every student to pass a swimming test, so my aquatic ability has been endorsed officially. It's just that dipping in the water isn't one of my favorite things to do. This is a feeling that my wife shares. It may explain why we bought a house with a pool up in New Jersey back in 1984.
The glorious gated community in which we spend our winters offers three options for swimming. There is an optional beach club, for which they charge actual money. It's about a half hour away. I've been there and it's lovely. It has only two small drawbacks. The first is sand and the second is salt water, both of which I don't like. To pay extra for the privilege of driving half an hour to get sand in places where sand should never go and then try to rinse it off in 70º salt water, thereby being coated in salt, isn't that appealing.
Then there is the main pool in the complex itself. This a an architectural delight featuring waterfalls, a couple of non-threatening water slides and, in the middle of it all, a gazebo with a jacuzzi pool. Surrounding the pool is a seating area filled with cushioned lounge chairs. Each lounge has a little flag on it. If you put up the flag one of the attendants will come and take your order for food and/or drinks available from the quaint Gator Grille located poolside. Soft luxurious towels are provided as is suntan goop. It is truly a resort experience. Except that a lot of the residents of the community hit the pool right after breakfast. They stake out their lounge chairs and set up camp for the day. They don't play golf. They don't play tennis. They hang by the pool. These natatory types congregate in small pods with defined territories. Should you drop your fluffy towel on one of their lounges they coalesce into a single glowering organism and shoo you away, in the most civil of mid-western manner, of course. On the east coast, I suspect that the pods are actually vicious. The remaining lounges are located in places so far from the actual pool that you have to follow the sound of the inviting waterfall to find it. Then during peak weeks, like Christmas, Presidents and Spring break, which covers essentially the whole month of March, the resort pool is packed with children and grandchildren. Somehow the members of the pods manage to incorporate these hordes of interlopers with no apparent increase in available seating.
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| Pool Day 2014 |
So that leaves the final option, the condo community pools. Like the main resort pool, all the condo community pools are heated to 82º. Unlike the main resort pool, the condo community pools are basic pools. They consist of a pool house with restrooms and drinking water fountains as well as the mail boxes for the residents. They have some furniture by the pool, but that's it. This is the option I chose today. The pool is about 50 yards from our house. I arrived at 4. I read until 4:15. Went in the pool until 4:25, and walked home at 4:30. This is exciting stuff people.
By the way, after years of opening, maintaining, and closing our pool in New Jersey, which hadn't been used in a decade or more, we had it killed by the pool killers at All Pool Demolition. As you might guess from the company name, our action wasn't unique. They kill about three pools a week. I miss that pool not even a little.
