Just a Chapter

Battle Sunscreen
It was the sunscreen battle of the century: Woman versus child. In his eyes that aluminum bottle was a deathly taser that would produce large amounts of torture to his small body. This is where I start off my day. It is the insistent screams, sad screams, as if he was pleading for forgiveness about something he had done. It was a fight between an odd pair. The woman was in her mid 40s (or could have been younger, but we will have to base it off appearances) and is probably the sister of Matilda’s principal, can’t remember her name. She was a beastly woman, to put it nicely. She fully filled out her skirted, floral swim suit and had a mass of dyed, frizzy red hair on top of her head. It looked like a disaster from the start: the sunscreen fight, I mean. She had two twin boys with her, obviously full of energy and ready for the “BABY POOL!” They screamed this phrase in unison ready to jump into the foot of water. Their cries of joy turned into cries of “PLEASE, MOMMY, NOOOO!” I thought she was beating them by the tone of their cries, but as I turned she was armed with a deadlier weapon: 50 spf spray bottle of sunscreen. I still remember the days of actual lotion, and I wonder how that would of gone with the youngsters. As she grabbed the first son, she sprayed him quickly from head to toe. He squirmed, wriggled, squatted and tried to get away from her straight aim, but had no such luck. His twin was watching from the side lines, wondering if his mom would hear his pathetic chant/cry of “No Sunscreen.” When finished with the first boy she went to reach for her other screaming child. He bolted for the other side of the pool, making it impossible for her to grab hold. This lady-son chase lasted for a good five minutes until the mother outsmarted him with a sideline player: another mother. As her child ran by she simply asked the woman to “Will you please just clothesline him as he comes by?” The woman reacted and did just that. I watched as he was caught in a line of fire, reacting to the spray as if it were a blowtorch; he survived.

Something 'bout Maria
Oh Maria. This is a woman so full of culture, spirit and passion that she just does not belong at a pool. The 65 year-old grandmother speaks fluent Spanish and jibberish as a second language. Although her English is broken and her eye-sight weak, strengthened by the thick magnifying lenses of her glasses which make her small eyes seem quite large, she has a knack for making a spectacle of herself. It may be that pool etiquette was not taught to her when she was young. Either way, Maria has an interesting story to tell.

My few encounters with Maria have been brief. One to explain to her that yes I could give her grandson swim lessons. She insisted on saying that they must be “EVERYDAY, EVERYDAY, EVERDAY!” I nodded my head in agreement. Everyday it must be. I saw her again on adult swim day, where I was forced to explain that her grandchildren could not come to the pool. She looked at me with puzzled (large) eyes, not comprehending what I was trying to say. Eventually after a circle of arguments her granddaughter led her home. The one encounter I wish I COULD of seen was last year:

Maria does not quite blend in with the crowd. Her mix of grey and red hair frames her leathery face. Her outfits never seem to quite match and her swimsuit is a whole different story. Maria added to her uniqueness by getting up from her laying out position, standing on the steps of the 3-foot water, squatted neatly above the water and proceeded to pee into the pool. I want to clarify the difference from peeing IN the pool and peeing INTO the pool. I know for a fact that everyone has partaken in this disgusting action. It seems a reasonable thing to for any child or rational adult to do. Why waste your time getting out of the pool, drying off, going to the bathroom, washing your hands, and then jumping back into the pool. It all seems quite tedious and silly when you are sitting in a large body of water. No one will know, except for the few close people who catch sudden warmth in the cold water. It is the short cut and the secret rule of the pool. Maria did not know about this secret pool rule and instead disgusted all those around her. Parents wanted her kicked out, babies were crying: it was a mess. But how can you kick poor Maria out when every single one of those complainers has done the exact same thing, just not as out in the open.

CBM Update
A trait that I noticed today in CBM is her constant hurry. There is a hurry to go to the bathroom, hurry to find a chair, hurry to drink a beer, hurry to smoke a cigarette. She just never stops. Today she was gathering her things, finding a chair and then all of a sudden she jumps up and actually runs to the car. It really wasn’t something I was expecting or enjoying but that is what she did. Bikini and flip flops running to her car. I thought maybe she left her small child in the car seat in the back and had to go save her. That was a wrong assumption. I saw her grab her left-behind item, run back through the gates and not stop til she reached her destination: her lawn chair. What she held in her hand was a bottle of tanning oil. I still don’t understand the urgency. Sure it was 12 PM, but I am pretty sure she had a lot of sun time left in the day. Of course she was drinking her Natural Light in her blue Coozie, smoking her third cigarette in the 10 minutes she had been sitting there.

The most interesting thing of the day was her drug deal in the pool parking lot. Sure, I probably should of ran out there and busted them, but then what kind of story would that make? After her shifty visit with this shady man in an unmarked white van, she came running back in with a wad of cash. The cash was divided up between her and her friend. She quickly got on the phone to one of her "friends." I was just there, sitting, minding my own business. I couldn't help by over hear what she had to say. "My s*** just went up! It's like $9 a pill now. So I am sorry honey. All I can do is get you 24." This bargaining went on for awhile. I am still in shock, or guess it is to be expected.

More stories to come...I am on a roll.