Now that summer is over (kind of), it’s time to ask some of the more serious questions in life. Like why I don’t live where there is a pool. Or rather, where I can use one legally. (I’m not against fence hopping in some instances, but not when you have to face your neighbors on a regular basis, and when they did not invite you to use their pool in the first place, it could get real weird real quick.)
Yet despite living in the pretentious part of town – let me spell my street name for you one more time Jimmy Johns, even though YOU WON’T DELIVER HERE! – there are exactly zero bodies of water on the premises. And if you’re going to name a division after French words that translate to “lake or pool,” you should definitely have a lake or pool. Or multiples of both.
My best guess for the lack of water is that pools are expensive* (and prices here are actually comparable to the rest of town). But I would gladly offer up my pool boy services for access to a 24/7, booze-friendly facility. Where kids are not permitted and dogs must pass a manners test before they enter. No barking or jumping allowed, even for the young ones. I’ll bring plenty of cold water and treats, just keep your tongue away from my sunscreen. And since I am the head pool boy, those laws will be strictly enforced.
So What Gives?
In a state where temperatures regularly hit three digits and humidity levels make you want to die, pools, IMO, should come standard on every development. That’s just common sense. Every few blocks another pool should exist, allowing the locals to take advantage of this cooling-off pastime. Because we want to take a dip after work and not have to pay $5 a pop while fighting thousands of people for space.
And if you think about it, pools are really an important part of American history. Swimming is an Olympic sport – bikinis helped save fabric during war shortages – it’s where Squints met Wendy Peffercorn, his future wife. Without pools, cinematic history would have taken a very different turn. And yet I’m still without one, like some sort of chump. The pre-knowing-who-Babe-Ruth is version of Smalls.
To my building manager(s), consider this a plea. Fall – the perfect time for construction – is heading our way. If you start building now we can be up and running for spring. I’ll bring the lemonade, you bring the dozers.
*Other areas of skimping: the living room windows don’t open – which is probably illegal, closets are too shallow for the doors to actually close, and the deck is fake. So that passers by think there are actual balconies but residents have to look at the faux versions every day as a reminder that outside is far away.