night

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Gone Swimming (don’t know if I’ll be back)

Published 10 August 2012 by Miss Dilly

Itching and regretting are great ways to wrap up a night.   I realize that could get very dirty, very fast but I’m afraid today this is not a sex story.  I know many of you might have a life on Saturday night, but I had no plans, no prospects and no work last weekend.  So around 8:30 I decide that I wanted to go swimming.  I choose a spot I had never been before.  I walked out the door and down the block to catch a bus and it crossed my mind that I may have forgotten to lock the apartment.  I should have gone back while I had the chance.

From the bus it was a twenty minute walk to get to the lake.  The sun was setting, the sky was beautiful, the weather was comfortable and I was looking forward to a swim.  I get down to the water and there’s people swimming about, eating picnics, tossing a Frisbee, a classic summer scene.  I sat down on the outskirts watching, okay lets me honest, glaring.  I wanted these people to go home.  Wasn’t it time for them to fall asleep on the couch watching Disney movies with their hyped up kids only to be woken up the dog licking their faces instead of their long-detached-yet-what-they-believed-to-be-suitable mate?

At some point I decided the time was right.  I stripped to my bathing suit. Went down to the water, and waded in quickly. The water was the perfect temperature after warming all day.  As soon as I started swimming a tornado of black bugs swarmed my face.  I splashed water around and they backed off some, but stay close enough that when my arms tired they could pounce on my soft, vulnerable flesh. At the rate I was going, it would be a matter of seconds for that to happen.  Somehow my legs pushed me forward, as I got farther out the number of insects died down, leaving a few brave ones hoping for their big break.  I felt a gentle caress on my leg, and then another and then something fuzzy and I’m kicking around as if Bruce himself, the almighty Jaws, was biting my leg.  All I can think of is Creature of the Black Laguna grabbing me and pulling me underwater to his grotto. So I attempt to avoid the seaweed and god knows what else by planking in the water (I’m, like, totes, like, cool – so why not kill two birds with one stone?).

My experience exactly!

There was a wooden dock in the middle of the water, only reachable by swimming. It may have been my only salvation, so I swam another 50 feet and reached it.  There were ducks following me and the bugs had returned.  I climb out, hoping I had bested them both.  Alas, duck poop coated the entire surface of the dock and the bugs only seemed to be bigger and meaner on top.  I pace, trying to not to be eaten alive, I think maybe there is a corner of paradise somewhere on this island.  I look down and two large black insects have landed on my shoulder and chest.  I blow and flick and jump around, utilizing all my knowledge of outdoor survival skills in one grand swoop.  I decide it’s safer in the water than out. That, and to get back I had to swim.  I wobbled down the step latter, turned to gently easy myself in and do a face-plant right through the cloud of bugs to the duck poop infested waters where the lake’s hands-y seaweed feels me up.  I come up sputtering and in full motion.  There was no time to lose.  I swam back, continuously flipping from my stomach, to my right side, to my back, to left side trying to avoid the seaweed touching me in one place too long.  Had anyone observed me I probably looked like I was trying to launch myself to space via aqua-duck method, if such a thing existed.  I finally got enough close to shore to stand, as I dragged myself out of the water I stubbed my toe on the loose rocks and trip once again reuniting me with my  perpetrator.  A couple that was standing not ten feet away audibly laughs.

I sit and air dry for a few minutes reflecting on my near death experience, admittedly a bit sad that my life didn’t flash before my eyes.  I decided I wanted to take off my suit. So I get up and go the restroom. As I’m changing, I look at the inside of the bathing suit top and it has a layer of green goo covering the material.  And then in the bottoms there are green clumps all over.  My mouth is frozen in an ‘eww’ position.  I don’t even know where I should start the worry –Skin infection? A rash? Uncontrollable bowels? Bad hair days for the rest of my life? I might have to get married someday? Gross!

As the generally known, yet unspoken, bathroom law goes, a woman entered the stall right next to me despite four others completely unoccupied. So I have a bit of fun with her, I ring out my suit onto the ground, it makes the perfect noise and splashes, I’m pretty sure a little bit of water got on her toes and I could hear the lady make a sound as she thinks someone is peeing on the floor.  I smile.  I walk out of the bathroom with the grace of a drag queen after a long night of disco dancing, sans glitter and with an itchy bum instead.