The Fouling: A sad swimming tale and a cocktail
Monday, June 19, 2017
Granted, I got to talk about swimming in Toronto on CBC Radio’s
Metro Morning, but after that the week went downhill. There was food poisoning,
a lot of vomiting in the hospital bathroom, exhausting solo parenting and not a
lot of sleep. But it was all going to be okay because the pools were opening on
Saturday and I was going to swim outdoors at my beloved Sunnyside Pool.
I couldn't swim the minute the pool opened – kids,
scheduling, etc., etc. – but I finally got my kids fed and down for
simultaneous naps (!!), packed my bags, hopped on my bike and biked through High Park. I was so
gloriously excited for the first outdoor dip of the season.
When I got to the waterfront trail, I saw an older man
strutting along in a Speedo and sandals, a towel around his neck. I asked him
how the water was.
“Wonderful,” he replied, “but the pool is closed.”
“Closed?” I asked, bewildered. It wasn’t supposed to close
for another two hours.
“Closed,” he said motioning that someone had vomited in the
pool. They would re-open in an hour, he promised.
At 3. The pool was supposed to re-open at 3, except my
two-month-old would need to nurse at 3:30.
Not gonna lie, I sat on the to beach (grateful I packed a
picnic blanket!) and I almost cried. It was a terribly self-pity moment – the
week had been so long and so hard and this swim was the only thing keeping me
together.
I stared at the lake that looked like an ocean and made a
sad Instagram story and eavesdropped on a first date, and watched a couple do
mesmerizing things with hula hoops.
I tried to read my book as the sky darkened and got two texts – one from my sister and one from my fella. They’d both heard thunder.
I tried to read my book as the sky darkened and got two texts – one from my sister and one from my fella. They’d both heard thunder.
And thunder means lightning and pools have to close.
I called Sunnyside (at 2:56), but they were still opening at
3. Whew! I biked over as fast as I could. I was going to be the first one in.
Except when I got there, there was a lifeguard standing at
the door. “Thunder,” she said over and over again to *very * disappointed
would-be swimmers.
I couldn’t hold back. I actually sobbed on the beach. In the
rain. It was so sad and pathetic it almost makes me laugh now (almost…I’m not
quite over it).
I biked home in the torrential rain, thunder rumbling,
lightning spiking. I was actually relieved it was an actual thunderstorm and
not just a wayward grumble.
I got home soaked and freezing. My fella had a pile of
towels at the ready and handed me a hot toddy.
Of course the sun came out later, and the pool reopened
(after my kid-free window had closed, of course), so I decided the only thing
to do was make a happy hour cocktail to commemorate this ridiculousness of the
afternoon.
May I present, “The Fouling” – a dark and stormy (ginger
beer, rum and lime) with a chocolate garnish:
2 comments
Once we got a phone call telling is the pool had been fouled and therefore swimming lessons were cancelled, which is considerate, but I had to know of the specific fouling—"what was it???" I asked—but they wouldn't tell me, which was totally annoying.
ReplyDeleteA phone call! That's positively civilized! (I'll have to get Rhya to write a post about her most recent fouling experience...the guards went into GREAT detail...haha-ew)
Delete