This afternoon in sunny CA., the kids were happily plopped off to the hotel kids’ program to play for a few hours, and I made my way down to the pool area. They have two pools here: the Family Pool and the adults-only Tranquility Pool. Now, of course, because I am usually walking around with my barnacle-like family, I have only been to the Family Pool so far. It is as you would expect, with lots of kids going SCREECH SCREECH SCREECH and splashing around, which is what they are supposed to do. But today, I wanted to get me some Tranquility. No kiddies, just me and the sun and a gorgeous view and a book and a mango colada (damn, they are good) and a dip in the infinity-edged pool. Ahhhhhhhhhhh.
Naaaaaaaahhhhhh.
The sign saying “Relaxation In Progress” did not mean MY vision of relaxation today. No, today, the Tranquility Pool was filled with Sugar Daddy and his Four Obnoxious Young Slores, all drinkin’ and whoopin’ it up. So I bagged reading, did not bag the mango colada, and watched the show they were putting on.
There must be some kind of mathematical formula for how guys get girls. I cannot say that I know the weights of the equation, but I know the variables: money, perceived status, attractiveness (with the subsections face, height, fitness, age, and hair), intelligence, humor, and transportation mode. Let us summarize Sugar Daddy using these variables, and what he got:
Money: My guess is loaded.
Perceived Status: The girls were all totally sucking up to him, so I say Moderately High to High.
Attractiveness: Decent face. Decent height. Quite fit. On the decline for age; I’d say somewhere mid-40s. Hair quite gone but cut well, graying on temples.
Intelligence: Smart enough to know how to pull four girls at once.
Humor: Enjoys laughing with four dimwitted loud drunken girls.
Transportation mode: Unknown, but I am completely sure that it was not bicycle nor city bus.
What He Got: Four girls in bikinis in their mid- to late-20s. Two with bad boob jobs. One with faded tramp stamp. One painfully skinny with a massive sunburn. Face and body ratings: California Standards = 4/10; Midwestern Standards = 8/10.
What I Got: The sight of Sugar Daddy smashing his face into the fake breasts of the two with bad boob jobs, and the skinny one with the sunburn nearly humping him on the chaise lounge. Everyone giggling and yelling and the girls’ NONSTOP YABBERING.
Back to the Family Pool I go, for a few minutes until my kids arrive there. I lie down to catch the last rays of the setting 5PM sun. What do I hear?
Five-Year-Old Boy: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
His 11-Year-Old Sister: GODDAMMIT RYAN SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!
Their parents and teenage sisters sitting directly in front of me, do nothing whatsoever about their language or their jumping in the pool and splashing water all over me, over and over and over.
This is how I looked when I moved for the THIRD TIME. GRRRRRR.
Eventually, the horrible-mouthed children and their family left, leaving me and my non-swearing children (that I know of), and a sumo-looking dad with his baby son, floating benignly in the water.
I started the summer at the Leavenworth Municipal Pool in Washington and ended it in at the Family Pool in Luxifornia, characters everywhere I go.
© Copyright 2008- Marianne Spellman