It is Friday night so I drive the 15 minutes to get the chain gym with the pool; my normal routine every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I love the stillness of the pool on Fridays; after all, it is “date night” so all the stuck-up bimbos are at PF Chang’s ignoring their dates for a hot night of text messaging; intelligent conversation flying off their blood red fingertips like sparks at a steel mill. Ouch, that one was scorching HOT!
YES!!!, with the exception of an old man with a bad hair-dye job jogging in the fast lane, the pool is completely empty. I’ll do my workout, get out, and get my ass home for some Pabst Blue Ribbon and All Star Wrestling.
Lacking the presence of the disgusting newlywed couple, the water usually isn’t this murky. Oh well, cheap beer and The Eliminator are waiting for me at home. I hop into the water, letting my body adjust to the dramatic ten degree air-to-water difference – unlike Mr. Roger’s goldfish, I don’t have the luxury of sitting in a bag for an hour as my scaly body patiently adjusts to the temperature change; this girl has places to be! My bottom half and top are out of sync so I quickly dunk my head under; at least I’ll be consistent – consistently cold.
I start my warm-up – 50/100/150. I feel pretty damn good. I’m gliding through the water smoother than the one-armed lady in the Total Immersion video. As I swim I notice a full quarter inch of chlorine powder littering the bottom of the pool. Who the F*cK is in charge of mainetence here? They really need to make the instruction on the chemical packages multilingual. Uno scoop! Uno scoop!
Suddenly I notice a bright orange piece of paper on the glass door leading to the pool – “Pool Temporarily Closed.” WTF??? WTF??? This temporary pool closure doesn’t fit into my training schedule! See, look, January 12th – swim 9 sets of 200m. Nowhere on this page do you see “time off for scheduled pool maintenance.” Gold’s Gym, you are solely responsible for destroying my Kona dream. You WILL hear from my attorney.
I kick my fins in utter disgust and head off toward the shower. I think the excess chlorine is starting to melt the lane-jogging old man’s hair right off; the gals back at the home aren’t going to have any respect for a 78 year-old duck who doesn’t have a full head of flowing brunette hair.
… Today is Saturday January 13, 2007 and my body still feels itchy despite the full cucumber sponge scrubbing. I have a headache and I’m pretty sure the chemicals in the pool the night before stripped a full three layers of epidermis and one full layer of retina from my body. I’m as pink and hairless as a mole rat.
So anyway, back to my original question… who in the F*CK is in charge of maintaining the GD pool? And yes, I’ve been drinking.