Right Back At Me

Well, karma showed up today and took a chunk right out of my behind.

I think we all know how I feel about lane sharing when swimming, right? Well, if you don’t, here’s a hint – I hate it.

Of course, I hate mostly when I am the one already swimming, and someone wants to share my lane.

I try my best to do them like a street begger – make no eye contact, keep on going.

But when I am the one standing at the end of a lane, needing to get the swim in during my lunch break, well, then, that’s a whole different story.

Which, of course, was the situation today.

Ah, but when I arrived, all lanes were taken. So I assessed which one of the swimmers look the least serious, and tried to get into that lane.

Cause those serious swimmer make me look like a fool.

Kind of like being the special ed kid put into the AP courses in high school – why set me up to fail, and feel like crap about myself, right?

My chosen lane was occupied by a slightly older man who, although considerably overweight and wearing a VERY tiny suit, was doing a lovely job at keeping to one side of the lane. I thought for sure that I would be able to squeeze in without being a bother.

Alas - it was not to be - I was thwarted by Mr. Should-Not-Be-Wearing-A-Speedo, who played me like a Streetwise vendor, and did everything in his power to pretend I wasn’t standing there for 15 minutes.

And I would never just jump in the lane without asking pleasantly to do so, so I continued to stand and wait for him to finish each lap, hoping he would look up and welcome me into the cool water.

That would never happen.

And it’s not like he was flip turning, which would have made it easy for him to avoid my glare – no, he would finish his lap, stop, but then turn his head to look at the clock to my right, instead of up at me.

So I curse at him under my breath (of course, not using cuss words, as I am trying to change that, though this situation would have warranted it - wait, does "douche bag" count as a swear? Huh, then maybe I failed this attempt), and wait until I am invited to swim in the Circle Only lane by a clearly more advanced swimmer, to whom I needed to make my apologies for “not being fast.”

But I got in, and dutifully did my swim.

Of course, the swim would not have been complete without one final kick in the pants: Since I was in the lane NEXT to Old Man Marley and his D-cups, I got the pleasure of staring right at his, ahem, overstuffed Speedos, every time I turned my head to breathe.

Trust me, it was a site worth drowning for.

Lesson learned?

Uh, lemme get back to you on that - I am still trying to bleach my eyes and develop temporary amnesia.