Putting Out The Vibe

Last week I promised on my Monkey Blog to tell you the story behind this guy at the pool:

At the time, I hinted that it was rather scandalous, and it was. But before I tell that story, I want to tell you a different one first. Also scandalous. Both of these true events happened to me last week, and--I think not by coincidence--both of them occurred while I was wearing my particularly alluring Speedo racer-back swim suit. It's black and has a scoop neck and modest, sensibly cut leg openings. Let me tell you, the men-folk are all over me in this suit. Behold:

Swim John Pinched My Bottom

I have been swimming three mornings a week at the rec center with my mom for nearly 2 1/2 years. We know a lot of regulars at the pool. Swim John (aka Swimming Buddy) is one of the "regulars" and he and I have developed the most charming relationship in the past few years built entirely on put-downs and whithering sarcasm. We delight in pretending we barely tolerate each other's presence. At least, I think he is pretending. Anyway, it is pretty typical for him to splash me in the face when I am standing in the lane chatting away with someone, and tell me to get out and let other people swim. And I don't mean he splashes me in that playful, flirty, I'm-begging-for-attention way, but in that two-handed plow splash "I'm trying to flood your lungs with chlorinated water" way that my brother used to splash me--just as I am coming up out of the water to take a breath. Swim John also yells at me. But it is all in good fun!

So last Wednesday I ended up sharing a lane with my mom and he was in the lane next to me. Witty banter ensued. I told him how nice Monday had been without him (slacker) because with no one chit-chatting my time away, I had swam 40 minutes straight. He seemed to think I was making this up, so I swam away ready to not say another word to anyone at the pool. To, you know, show him. I had been swimming for about 25 minutes without a break (please understand that I am a leisurely swimmer, so this isn't like I'm bragging--as Swim John will eagerly tell you, I am not that strong of a swimmer) and just as I came to the wall (he was already standing there, waiting) I turned to kick off the wall and I distinctly felt a thumb and a pointer-finger pinch my bottom. I popped up out of the water and looked at Swim John. He looked at me. He stammered "I was trying to grab your ankle. That was your ankle, wasn't it??" I just looked at him and said "That was not my ankle. And I'm telling my mom".

Cell Phone Guy Tries To Get Busy With Me In The Lazy River

Now back to the guy in the picture. First, a word about the Lazy River. I am assuming I don't have to go into any great detail about the mechanics behind Lazy Rivers and how they work. Basically, powerful jets of water are angled in the walls of the river to propel you along the current. Because of this, it can be a bit tricky to enter and even trickier to exit the river. Usually there is a life guard positioned near the one break in the wall that is the point of entry/exit. So just how powerful is this current? Well, before my run-in with Guy, I was holding Tommy and trying to exit the river and I happened to angle my body just so into the jets, and the entire left side of the bottom of my suit suddenly was no longer on the left side of my suit, if you catch my meaning. As is my usual custom when something completely humiliating happens to me in public, I burst out laughing. It is my defense mechanism, and it is helpful in drawing attention to me--just in case someone was looking away and happened to completely miss my embarrassing moment. (Not that anyone could see what happened, mind you. But I knew.)

So I am holding Tommy (angry, crying as you remember) and we are tootling along the river when I decide to get out. It just so happened that Cell Phone Guy (who was not at this moment on his cell phone) was also thinking of getting out, but I was ahead of him and so didn't see him. I knew from the experience gathered in the previous paragraph that I needed to keep my feet on the bottom of the pool and just shuffle forward if I was going to avoid careening down river. I am almost to the corner of the wall and out of the river when Guy is suddenly and forcefully slammed up against me. I am still holding Tommy (squirming, wriggling) and so my arms are not free to help. Guy is in a full body-slam on my left side while the life guard (all 98 lbs of her) is trying to pull him off of me. The jets are going as strong as ever, and I am laughing hysterically as I try to simultaneously lose the man on my hip (plastered to me like a starfish) while not losing my footing. (I didn't happen to note what, if anything, was going on with the bottom of my suit.) It was a scene, I tell you.

So I guess these two stories illustrate one thing: I am totally putting out the vibe in my black Speedo one-piece.