SUMMER WINDS DOWN

As usual, the weather for the last two weeks of my summer break are "iffy" - at best. So, when a sunny, warm day rolls around, I try to take advantage of it. It's Saturday, the second to last Saturday before the complex's pool closes. With the air temperature reaching the mid-80's, I grab my towel and a book and head to the lounge chairs, expecting a weekend-sized crowd to be there.

No crowd. Not a single soul other than the lifeguard.

I am there for about fifteen minutes when one of the regulars shows up. He immediately grabs the same two lounge chairs I always see him using on the opposite side of the pool. He flings towels over them, puts in a Dunkins order on his phone, and promptly disappears. Apparently, he is high-hosey-ing those chairs, just in case.

Just in case of what, exactly, I'm not certain. I am still the only person here.

I usually read for a while, swim for a bit, then read some more. I decide to hit the water only to discover that the heater has been turned off. The water is a cool (and I do mean cool) 74 degrees. That is pretty close to the temperature of the ocean water. A quick cool-off is needed, but then I'm right back out again.

I hang around reading for another half hour. By this time, Chair Claiming Man still has not shown back up. The empty loungers have been warming two towels for over an hour. Even more interesting, I continue to be the only person poolside. As I'm leaving, I hear a family unloading their car on their way to the pool (good luck -- it's pretty chilly), and I pass a neighbor on her way to the lounger chairs. At least the lifeguard won't be bored while waiting for Dunkins DoLittle to make his reappearance.

I know exactly when the weather will return to Summer Mode, with perfect days in the 90s: The first two weeks that I am back in school, suffering through mindless professional development, useless meetings, and lunches with at least one person who was supposed to be transferred elsewhere . . . but wasn't. (I'm way too old and jaded to be diplomatic, so I'll have to eat at my desk instead of the lunch room because ain't nobody got time for her shit.)

Maybe I'll bring a towel to work with me and claim a few chairs for myself. Perhaps I can escape reality through the same portal my pool-mate did. It will appear that I am there (at work), but I will be somewhere far more interesting. It will be like pulling a magic trick at lunch: I'm there, but in an alternate dimension, perhaps back in Summer, where the weather is way too warm and the water is way too cold.