Pool Problems

The Garden City Pool. Lately, it seems like the people in charge of making decisions there just can’t seem to get it right, even when they are trying extra especially hard. From voucher-gate to the decision to close the pool early on weekends, the management had made some considerable missteps. Events like the recent member appreciation night and the reversal (albeit a bit late) of the early close time on weekends definitely show someone is trying, but without a comprehensive plan in place, it’s worthless.

The sad part is that the pool is actually pretty great. I was a member of the pool years ago, when both my luscious hair and free America Online discs were in ample supply. The Garden City Pool I remembered from years past, though, was not the one I walked into this year as a full member. I’d never considered the pool as a viable summer option, being a member of the Atlantic Beach Club until recently, but my wife and I had heard good things so we decided to take the plunge (puns!). So, without a single guest visit, Allison and I threw caution to the wind and joined up (we’re hardcore like that). After all, it’s a town pool – what’s the worst thing we’d have to deal with? An elderly man who thinks banana hammocks are flattering? A woman who tans more than a Jersey Housewife and looks like a saddlebag with eyes? Bring it on, we’ve both been to a European beach.

The day we showed up to join it was a week before the official opening, and they let us take a quick look around before we made our finial decision. We started with the adult pool, which was more or less like I remember it. Then again, I was pretty small and the adult pool was off-limits, because, as all kids knew, “thar be dragons there.” So, really, they could have added cages for poking naughty children with sticks, and I probably wouldn’t have noticed. The next change was the high diving board – it was gone! Instead were two of those water park slides that jam your bathing suit so far up yourself that you have to spend 5 minutes (not) inconspicuously fishing it out with your back to the fence so no one sees you diggin’ for gold. The biggest change, though, by far, was the kiddie pool. When I was a member as a child, the kiddie pool was a tiny circle filled with unsettlingly warm water and a nanny coffee klatch that wouldn’t notice a child on fire. Now, though, all I can say is “wow.” In place of the kiddie pool I knew, there now stands a construct that looks like the unholy offspring of a jungle gym and the Everlasting Gobstopper machine from Willa Wonka’s factory. This thing has water cannons, stairs, falling buckets of water, and I’m pretty sure I saw an Oompa Loompa living in the middle of it all. Now, I haven’t had kids yet, but I did raise three younger siblings, and call me crazy, but this isn’t a place that I’d feel comfortable leaving them unsupervised – lest they get hit by a water cannon or fall down the stairs, or worse (research Oompa Loompas re: eat children?).

All in all, though, I was happy the pool was more vibrant and attractive than it was when I went oh so many years ago. That’s why I was confused when the articles began to appear in the GC News and other places about how the pool was desperately trying to increase membership. The days that Allison and I had gone seemed to indicate that membership was fairly strong already. Granted, it was a weekend, but when we arrived at what I thought was an early hour, the lot was full. Now, when I say full, I don’t mean full like you have to wait for someone to pull out so you can give a polite wave and pull in, I mean full as in flipping the bird, “quick, that lady with the dumb hat has keys in hand!,” Welcome to Thunderdome full. Even with a handicapped placard, I got more dirty looks than an unattached adult at a playground. Eventually we gave in and tried the back lot. We got lucky and were able to snake a spot from a family with two nannies or possibly three sister wives.

So once we were parked in a spot that was so far away that I was concerned I didn’t have my passport, we finally got our first taste of the pool on a summer day. Of course we wanted to get a table, who wouldn’t, so we began our sweep at the adult section and steadily moved in a clockwise motion towards the kiddie pool Wonkawash. There wasn’t a table to be had, so we ended up on two chaise lounges that we got by telling two old ladies that they were giving out free butterscotch candies at the snack bar.

As I laid there, broiling to a fine char in the afternoon sun, I kept an eye open for any movement that would indicate one of those lucky table families was thinking about leaving. Amazingly, a clan just two tables away from us began to do the towel roundup, so I sent Allison over to secure the location. Unfortunately, my wife was unaware that she actually had to obtain a verbal agreement for the table rights, so our prize was snatched out from under us. Back on the chaise lounges, smelling of sweat and failure, we gave up totally and visited the snack bar.

When we eventually came back down, a good samaritan who had witnessed our epic fail in table contract negotiations had felt bad and procured a different table for us. My faith in humanity restored, Allison took her place at our table and sat like a Queen on coronation day, looking down upon all the peasants without tables, while I took a victory lap to tackle the next hurdle – finding a second chair. Pool membership is a cruel scavenger hunt, my friends, and fortune only favors the bold. If you have a soft heart and aren’t willing to steal chairs from elderly folk and infants alike, then you better have a soft behind because that’s what you’ll be sitting on all day.

These experiences are part of the reason I was a bit taken aback when the pool administration announced they wanted more members. So, I asked around, and what I was told is that the pool doesn’t get any money from the town’s taxes and they always run in the red. This may be the real reason behind the membership push. Unfortunately, when the people in charge make ridiculous decisions like allowing late-season joiners to buy reduced guest ticket books, ergo giving the middle finger to anyone who was responsible enough to join on time, it alienates potential pool cheerleaders. Yes, the renovation of the shower areas and the “adult night” are both good ideas, but there doesn’t seem to be any overall plan in place. It’s as if they are just pulling ideas out of a swim cap, and if people like it, great! It’s time to form a thorough strategy, and that doesn’t mean simply packing more cars and people into the park, especially on weekends, to up the monetary intake. Not unless you are going to allow us to arm ourselves and turn the pool into some sort of gladiator battle to the death. Or to the table.

For more of Daniel P. Malito’s writing, visit http://www.danielpmalito.com or look him up on Facebook.