Confronted with the July humidity and tired of running over incandescent swaths of the mega-tropolis’ concrete, I visited Shanghai’s public pool for a workout swim.

When the clock struck midday, a class of adolescent swimmers exited the pool and the “free swimmers” proceeded in for their hour of glory. I charged in anxious to work up a sweat.

The Olympic size pool had lap lanes but I quickly learned it was a free-for-all; swimmers, revelers, and families alike shared the same pool.

I was at peace with the elders offering their grandchildren elementary swim lessons but there was another faction that vied for hegemony over the pool. As we sought to swim vertically, there was a retrograde group who insisted on swimming east to west, partitioning the rectangle and cutting off my free path.

Despite the human traffic, the serious swimmers with their goggles and swim caps smoothly coasted from one end to the other uninterrupted. How did they do it?

I was envious because just when I achieved some momentum, human bodies acted as barriers, breaking my rhythm.

Mid-stroke, I stopped to appeal to the authorities. Inspired by the veterans’ example, I too was determined to complete some laps.

I looked up at the life guards on both sides of the pool but as soon as we made eye contact, they shifted their glances away from me, ignoring my pleas for order. Cross-swimmers were in clear violation of international swimming protocol but no one was taking a stand.

I plunged my body back into the water and in the middle of my third stroke, a cross-swimmer charged into my sternum. Livid, I burst out of the water like the great leviathan himself, flailing my arms to exaggerate the infraction.

My descent complete, I again appealed to the higher order, subtly motioning my head at the guilty party, an elderly woman who was swimming with her entourage of friends.

A fusillade of whistles blared out. I thought, at last, the heavens have heard my plea.

The chief life guard took his index finger and middle finger, pointed them at his own eyes, then at me, as if to say he had witnessed the entire international episode and knew who the aggressor was.

I looked around to measure the temperature of the pool. The momentum had shifted against me.

The elderly woman had a home field advantage. All I had was raw emotion. I took my two hands to my chest incredulously, as if to confirm the verdict and ask “me?”

I searched for international solidarity but the entire pool community was in motion. There was a group of little girls flapping their feet on the edge who stopped to observe the unfolding situation. I thought I would drown in their disappointed glances.

The die was cast.

The chairman of the lifeguards raised his two hands and began to count down from ten, one finger at a time. I wondered what fate awaited me after ten seconds.

I made my way from the middle of the deep end to the ladder. It was the longest walk of my life.

The cute little children in their floaties stopped mid-lesson, cheering my exit. I looked back one final time; the vertical and horizontal swimmers continued unimpeded, crisscrossing the pool as if nothing happened. It was one harmonious society.

1 COMMENT

  1. after reading a few articles this one was my favorite, because i can totally relate. Ive been to japan as well as china and i honestly could not even lay in the water of how crowded it was.
    in addition it was especially interesting on how i was gawked at all the time.

    we truly are the villains 🙁

  2. Wonderful story, reckoned we could combine a few unrelated data, neeelthervss really worth taking a look, whoa did one learn about Mid East has got more problerms as well

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