And on and on it goes.
The size of the lockers, the state of the change-rooms, the smiles (or lack of) on the dials of the lifeguards, the number of police officers – such are but a few of the variables one encounters on Pool Quest. And in a city like New York, one feels one is mixing with a sub-culture (and no other types of culture, I trust). People don’t swim much here. Jogging, yes. Jogging is huge. New Yorkers will jog through Central Park when the pathways are covered in black ice and every breath freezes in your throat.
But swimming? Ah, no. And definitely not in the public pools. Which of course, is where I tend to spend my time, being reluctant to blow upwards of $200 per month on a gym membership. But I move through sub-cultures easily and once you’re in the water, all Speedoed-up, I find all are equal. In that, all are left in my wake as I blaze up and back like a rocket-fueled porpoise.
Enough trite. On with the reviews.
Another pool, another pained expression.