SWIMMING WITH SEA CREATURES

A few of the intriguing creatures of the Y you are likely to encounter while swimming laps...

THE MANATEE: Also termed a “floater.” Usually a person of size who enjoys the water’s buoyancy. They are speechless, unless in a pair, when they tend to congregate at the pool’s stairs and converse in hushed tones. Single floaters are content to bob and will not bother you. Female MANATEES tend to wear older bathing suits with insufficient support; if a boob should escape its confines, ignore it and show no reaction. 

THE CRAB: Typically a sharp-faced woman in her late 50s, in bathing cap, goggles, and a severe racing suit. She is there to swim laps undisturbed. The crab will speak when spoken to but is otherwise non-verbal:

ME: Do you mind if I share your lane?

CRAB: Can you ask someone else? If they say no, we can share.

ME: Sure…

CRAB: It’s just, I get nervous about sharing. People have swam onto my side.

ME: I understand. I’m very careful though.

CRAB: [flexing her claws menacingly] Thank you. At least you asked; most people don’t ask.

Do not misinterpret the crab’s sudden magnanimity for genuine assent! She will turn on you at any point if threatened.

DYING TUNA: A man in his mid 40s in poor physical condition, identifiable by his dogged adherence to a sloppy freestyle crawl in which he leaves a significant wake that renders nearby swimmers queasy. The DYING TUNA  is unaware his disorganized form distresses others, as he lacks spatial awareness, common courtesy, and any inherent athleticism. If sharing a lane with a DYING TUNA, it is imperative you lift your head above the waterline to breathe, unless you want to end up with a mouthful of chlorinated water. Note: he will not speak unless spoken to, at which point he briefly moves his flabby lips to signify a negative or positive response. Much to the consternation of more modest swimmers, he may be wearing a Speedo.

INJURED KILLER WHALE: He will start off strong and fast for approximately four laps before slowing to a painfully slow, sloppy, crawl, thereby morphing into a DYING TUNA. 

STINGRAY: It is imperative you shuffle your feet on the bottom of the pool when a stingray is in your sights to alert them to your presence. Even this precaution, however, may not placate the STINGRAY, a bitter woman in her mid 60s who has eyes on the side of her head allowing her to see all. Do not fret if she complains about you to gym staff, which is expert in avoiding her deadly barb. 

THE FRIENDLY DOLPHIN: Young, playful, and well-muscled female. Average age is 16. Serious but will happily chat with you about her routine and offer instructional advice if requested. She performs every stroke (butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke, and freestyle) with a graceful ease to which you can only aspire. Due to a high skill level, the DOLPHIN imparts a barely perceptible wake. The rarity of the friendly dolphin cannot be overemphasized; sightings average once per year.

ADDITIONAL OBSTACLES TO SWIMMING: Scenarios

TUESDAY, 10:35 AM.

STAFF MEMBER (SM): I’m sorry, the pool is closed.

ME: Why?

SM: Water aerobics class. 

ME: Ugh, who does that?

SM: Stingrays and manatees, mostly. Anyways, it’s on the schedule (she waves a single piece of paper in my face).

ME: Guess I’ll try tomorrow.

SM: (brightly) They’ll be done in an hour, if you wanna wait.

ME: That’s okay.

WEDNESDAY, 8:00 AM.

SM: You’re here early.

ME: Yep, trying to avoid the crowds!

SM: (running the tip of her index finger slowly down a clipboard) Let’s see…Oh! I’m sorry: a pod of dolphins is here for their annual East Coast Regional Conference.

ME: Maybe they can give me one lane?

SM: ‘Fraid not. They’re also bipolar.

ME: Wow.

SM: (in a low whisper) And unmedicated.

THURSDAY, 2:00 PM.

ME: Hi. I’m back.

SM: Hey, I remember you!

ME: I should fucking hope so.

SM: Well, I have bad news.

ME: Don’t tell me: A shiver of great whites are playing water polo?

SM: No, silly; they migrated north in June.

ME: Good.

SM: (running the tip of her index finger slowly down a clipboard) I’m sorry, the Maine Chapter of Hard Shell Lobsters is meeting today to vote on an amendment to their constitution.

ME: Are these lobsters angry?

SM: Is there any other kind of lobster? 

ME: So sharing is out of the question.

SM: (pulls a heavy binder from under her desk and opens it) “The YMCA and its subsidiary recreational facilities will not be liable for any damages or losses arising from use of the pool, including, but not limited to shark bites, psychological trauma, ankle wounds inflicted by stingrays, crab pinches, and other unenumerated fatal and non-fatal injuries.”

ME: God dammit.

SM: (shrugging) Swim at your own risk.