Pools and the public š¦ š
"I got a swimming pool full of liquor and they dive in it." Not really though.
Thereās a swimming pool at the end of my block. Thatās it. Thatās the story.
Itās a public pool.
Most New Yorkerās I know recoil in discomfort every time I bring it up: āNah that shitās dirty as hell bruh.ā
Others maintain their cool status and make ME feel like I asked them if they regularly walk around naked: "I aināt never been to a public pool. We just donāt do that where Iām from.ā
Well, a lot of other New Yorkerās feel differently, bb.
If you live in a Brooklyn neighborhood with as many schools in it as I do, then you might have noticed that schoolās out. Yep. The kids are OUT HERE.
Iām not mad about it because there was a time in my life when I too, was āout thereā, in a small town called Slough. When school was out for summer, our group (forgive me for once calling it a gang) had nothing better to do than make noise. Everywhere we went weād scream, shout, and do unproductive shit for no reason other than boredom.
No internet roaming. No Tik Tok.
Weād take long walks, listening to the Wayne Wonder album by sharing 2 MP3 players between 5 of us. Weād ābreak inā to the school astro turf (which had a hole in the gate) and play football with the boys. Then weād flirt with the same boys and hope that we had enough credit left on our phones to text back. And thatās if we had a phone. I didnāt until I was 14. It was all part of the thrill. Nothing teaches you patience quite like waiting.
One year, I got my first boyfriend right before the holidays (sorry mum, I know you read this) and since we had no way of communicating all summer, we only hoped to bump into each other in the street. When we did, it was so awkward and there were so many rumors about our lack of relationship that we mutually dumped each other right then and there. Lakhan, if youāre reading this itās too late. š
Since we lived in England, there was no such thing as an outdoor public pool. At least not one on the end of the street. There was barely a summer. We were lucky to have one warm week which weād call a heatwave and everyone would freak out since there was no AC. The whole town would be lining up at Wickes buying as many fans as they could get their hands on just for one week. What can I say? We love a fuss.
Sometimes, weād go to the local indoor pool and that was hit or miss. First, I couldnāt really swim. Second, the deeper I got into my teenage years, the weirder I felt about my body ā naturally. I was a brown girl. And I was hairy. And being Indian, I had two complexes:
Petitioning to remove my body hair was like running an election campaign.
Showing a certain amount of skin in public was frowned upon. Oy!
Not anymore:
Anyway, you can imagine how SHOOK I was to discover this olympic-sized pool, at the end of my block, completely free of charge. And still I waited two years to go. You New Yorkerās have a way of projecting your scepticism onto us transplants. š I knew it wasnāt going to be a Hockney painting depicting Californian serenity, but could it really be that bad? The pool opened on June 29. A little late in my opinion but I believe the local reps already fought the good fight by trying to petition for an earlier opening and to everyoneās dismay, failed. Cool.
The best part about any pool is the people it attracts. Every day, I watch folks walk past my apartment with towels on their shoulders and I know exactly where theyāre headed. The little ones are especially cute because theyāre so excited and make mad noise while donning the tiniest Crocs youāve ever seen. It makes me stop what Iām doing for a sec, go to my balcony and watch their beaming faces run down the block to their oasis.
This past Tuesday, I was ready to get in on the action. It was around 5:45pm (oddly a witching hour for me) when I peeked over the balcony and saw the usual walk-down-to-the-pool tribe. āFuck it, iām going,ā I whispered to myself as someone who works from home does.
āDonāt overthink it bb,ā I said. And if youāre an overthinking Aquarius with a Sag rising then I know you can relate. I chucked on my black Hunza G one-piece (still a lil body conscious, way less hair though), grabbed a red-and-white striped towel I stole from the TWA hotel last year, some sunscreen, and did my first ever bop down to Kosciuszko Pool, beaming.
When I got there 4 minutes later, the line was long as fuckkkkkkkkkk. I had a lowkey panic moment. Maybe I picked the wrong time. What if I didnāt get in? All of a sudden waiting to get into the pool felt like waiting to get into that club that used to be on 14th St. (Up and Down???). I gave myself some words of reassurance and decided to stick it out. I was already there and I could people watch ā one of my fav pastimes. And I didnāt need bottle service.
By the time I got out of my head, the line had started to move. It made me so happy to see so many folks excited to just be in. a. pool. In city that has no space and inflation is higher than the Manhattan skyline, how nice is it to just take an afternoon dip? FOR FREE. What a little luxury. And with locals. Not a bunch of pricks who paid $100 each to sit and take selfies at The Dream Hotel (no judgement, I do it too). Gazing up, I was hype to see the 3 teen girls all cute and overdressed.
āHey where did you get your waist beads?ā I asked.
āAmazon,ā she replied.
I ordered them immediately.
After security check ā safety first ā I was surprised to find the changing rooms to be pretty clean. See, New Yorker scepticism really gets in your head lol. Even better was that no one was checking for me or my hair. I took a quick rinse at a shower lacking in water pressure (not complaining) and headed out to the concrete.
When I say it was packed. It was PACKED.
Families swarming everywhere. Mumās attempting to teach little ones to stay afloat. Kids screaming. So loudly. Thank god Iām partially losing my hearing otherwise I might have a had a migraine for days. Teen boys dunking teen girls under water. More screaming. Lifeguards blowing their whistles since no one was paying attention to the big āNO DIVINGā signs. Soloās sunbathing on the bleachers. I wasnāt mad that the zen oasis was actually a rager. I was just grateful to be there. šš½āāļø
The lap section was closed (!) so I sought refuge in the deep-ish end. At first dip, the water was cold, the best thing about getting into a pool on a hot day. Goosebumps washed over me followed by elation. What a fun little hack in this insanity we live in, I kept saying in my head. What a simple thing thatās actually accessible, even if you canāt get your Michael Phelps on. What a complete alternate reality for a Brit who grew up on grass and paddled in the fountain at the park.
I managed around 30 mins of bobbing around, smiled at strangers in non-creepy way, did a couple of diagonal laps and soaked it all in. I stared up at the sun, closed my eyes and thanked someone for having an able body and being able to appreciate the smallest of things in all of the chaos.
Afterwards, I walked through the park and let Julyās sticky humidity dry me off while listening to Kendrickās āSwimming Poolsā. I know that song has nothing to do with actual swimming pools, but I was thinking about the ways in which we drown our sorrows and what it feels like when we come up for air:
āAll I, all I, all I, all I have in life is my new appetite for failure
And I got Hunger pain that grow insane, tell me do that sound familiar?
If it do then you're like me, making excuse that your relief
Is in the bottom of the bottle and the greenest indo leaf
As the window open I release everything that corrode inside of me.ā
The slurry, slow-mo vibe of the song melted perfectly into the thickness of the heat in the air. I smiled.
I could always find pockets of joy if I wanted to.
I could always swim it off if I needed to.
And now look, everyone wants to join in! š
See you poolside.fm. š¦
Always waiting for your next chapter
K Pool is the.best. I miss the freelance life when I would bike over there on Fridays.