I started early enough, heading to the main resort building and its pool. As I walked, I felt confident that the pool would belong to me alone. After all, it’s Monday. Haven’t families checked out so the parents can return to work? When I arrived the towels were stacked for the swimmers to take. The umbrellas were opened. And various staff members wished me “Good morning.” It was a beautiful thing.
I took off my wrap and shoes and exchanged them for my fins and goggles. Got ready to plunge into the pool and swim. But it’s a good thing I looked first. There in front of my path were three dark haired boys having a wonderful time as they dove for objects on the bottom. Okay, I thought, this pool is big enough. I can swim around them. In fact, I can swim half of it and still get a good work-out.
I moved to the right of the boys to claim my half and started, as I always do, with kick floating to warm up. The thing is, without dark ceramic lines on the bottom of the pool I’m unable to float or swim in a straight line. When I raised my head from the water I was headed directly toward four young girls playing “Marco Polo.” That’s the game where one swimmer closes her eyes and tries to find the others by shouting “Marco,” to which they shout “Polo.” The unseeing swimmer is supposed to identify where the others are by the sounds of their voices. And . . . I was headed directly toward the girl who was “It.”
I veered to her right, but since she seemed to be playing the game honestly by not peaking (I always peeked.), she sensed someone was near and reached out to me. I moved from floating to a quick crawl to the end of the pool.
A family of five stood at the edge, disrobing and getting ready to claim its stake. I pushed off the side wall and headed back toward the other end. By the time I arrived, a dad was teaching his daughter how to swim like a dolphin. And Mom was taking pictures.
Then there was Max, a small child who must have been the offspring of a mermaid and a sailor. He wore floaties on his arms and bobbed all over the pool with a confidence I’ve only recently acquired. I knew his name, because an adult – presumably his father – kept telling him to stay closer to the edge.
By the time the calypso music started, I decided there were too many two-legged obstacles in the pool to make this worthwhile. I grabbed my stuff and headed for the Starbucks®. At least there were no children in line.
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