It’s in the hot lazy days of summer that I find myself venturing out to the ol’ city pool. I pack my towel, my eco-friendly reusable water bottle and some SPF 6 and elect to leave my pride at home. Despite my pathetic attempts at the swan dive I never say no to the diving board. It’s the pedestal of beauty on a high-temperature afternoon, the Mecca I simply cannot resist. I can pencil-dive while plugging my nose and work on those tan lines to my hearts content all for a mere $3 admission fee.
There is a momentary Sandlot feel to the city pool that brings a calming sense of nostalgia. Where this sensation comes from I have no idea. I was never an extra in the movie, heck; my childhood town didn’t even have a community pool! But no matter what body of water you find yourself in you will likely run into the usual suspects as represented in that timeless flick. The gang of mangy boys within an inch of hitting puberty, the giggling teeny boppers reapplying tanning lotions and potions every 10 minutes, the lifeguard that is impossible to impress and the odd duck who is frantically saving bugs that kamikaze into the deceiving waters…from past experience that maniac life-saver is usually me.
Its funny I get the sense that all is right in the world when I am surrounded by these clichés. It’s a therapy of sorts I suppose. The clichés assure me that everything is OK because it’s just like what happens in the movies. That’s the warped reality I find myself living. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to perfect my cannon ball.
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