Swimming became my pressure-relief valve and now I honestly can’t imagine life without it. Good days, bad days… it always helps. Some days when it’s real bad and my mind is running away with me, I actually just let myself drift to the bottom of the pool like Dustin Hoffman in that scene from The Graduate. (Except I don’t have the snorkel-tank, naturally…)
I just stay down there for a while and it really does help. But mostly I swim, of course. I don’t want ya’ll to think I’m hanging around under the water like ole’ Benjamin Braddock, pre-Mrs. Robinson, having a semi-public breakdown or anything. I mean, I may be a little shaky here and there, but I’m alright…Oh, of course I have the occasional run-in with my fellow aquanauts. As mentioned in previous entries, sometimes it just can’t be helped. Rudeness translates from land to water quite effortlessly. Quite swimmingly! But screw it, for the most part I can rise above it.
Or at the very least, float.
* * * * * * *
Call me crazy, but I love the locker room at the Aquatic Center. It’s a fucking nut-house. It’s chaos. Anarchy!!! Well, not always but often enough. The pool is in Flushing Queens, so a lot of the clientele are Chinese as well as Slavic - Czechs and Russians. A Hungarian thrown in here and there to keep me company. Mostly Chinese, tho’.
The other day I witnessed the greatest exchange between a Russian broad and a Chinese woman. The Russian broad was a big bruiser. Maybe 5-foot-ten, 55 years old. Thick, black wiry hair, obviously dyed. Giant tits, big stomach, big ass – standing there naked as all hell, TOWELING OFF with great fanfare and flare. I mean, JEEZUSS! Who the hell ACTS like that? I guess this broad. I would be mortified. I cover myself up like a monk in the locker room – well, not like a monk but DAMN. I keep it civilized. Not this one, tho’. No – she’s hangin’ out in every-which direction and calling all kinds of attention to herself ta boot.
And in the same locker area with her (and things are very CLOSE in the locker room) is this demure little Chinese woman. She’s minding her own business, trying to get her act together and get the hell outta there. But then for some reason The Russkie starts talking at this poor little thing.
Russkie Broad: “I SWIM EVERY DAY. EVERY DAY I AM HERE.”China Doll: “Yes. Swim, yes.” She nods sweetly. It immediately becomes clear that she knows very little English.
Russkie: “YES, I SWIM. I WALK ALL THE WAY HERE. THAT IS ONE HOUR. THEN I GO TO GYM DOWNSTAIRS FOR 40 MINUTES. THEN I COME SWIM FOR 40 MINUTES. THEN I WALK ONE MORE HOUR BACK HOME. EVERY DAY.”China: “Yes, yes.” She laughs nervously. She has no fucking idea what Russkie is yelling about.
Meantime, I’m thinking: “Christ, how many pierogies is this bitch pounding down in order to maintain that weight?”Russkie: “I DO THIS FOR HEALTH.” (She pronounces Health: HELLT. With an obnoxious accent on the “T”)
China: “Yes, thank you. Hellt.”Russkie: “NOT HELLT. HELLT! HELLT!”
The poor Chinese gal is trying like hell to rush things along and get away from Russkie. She’s scrambling, getting a little panicked. Dropping stuff. Going: “Yes…thank you…” nervously.
In the meantime Russkie has gotten a piece of scrap paper from her bag and is writing hastily. She shoves the paper in the China girl’s face, bellowing: “YOU SEE? HELLT! H – E – A – L – T – H ~!!!! THIS IS HEALTH! WHAT WE ARE DOING HERE IS FOR OUR HELLT!!!!”
And then, with this final grandiose proclamation, the Russkie gathers the last of her belongings…thank God, she is finally garbed and presentable… and she imparts one last bit of wisdom as she exits the locker room:Russkie: “SO NOW YOU LEARNED SOMETHING TODAY! YES, you learned about HELLT! GOOD-BYE! GOOD-BYE NOW!”
And the little Chinese woman waves feebly, calls out in a timid voice: “Good-bye!... Good-bye, Health!”
I dunno why. But that just made my freaking day.
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