Adult Swim

No, not the Cartoon Network's finest line of programming (for those of us over the age of 7). I'm talking about the real deal, the original, the defining moment of adulthood - the public pool's lifeguard-sanctioned Adult Swim.

I realize this is quite the random topic to address. So what? Today, while visiting my sister and her two little ones, we embarked on an afternoon at the swimming pool in her neighborhood development. Along with my mom, who was also visiting from PA, the five of us strolled into the gated oasis with as the hot hot heat pouring down on us.

In between the screams and shouting of what appeared to be an endless number of toddlers, I heard the faint shrill of the lifeguard's whistle, followed by the two words that for a long time in my life brought chills to my insides, and tears to my eyes...

Adult Swim.

This was quite the moment. For the past 4 or 5 years, I have been lucky enough to enjoy the luxuries of private pools at friends' houses, or even the coveted guess past at the local country clubs. For these reasons, I imagine, I have been quite detached from the emotional distress caused by the party-pooping meanness of those lifeguards who - I assumed at the time - had the sole purpose of raining on the parade of every small child splish-splashing around in the pool, making us exit and sit alongside the deck with our feet in the water for 15, sometimes 20, minutes at a time. All so a bunch of old people could swim laps or stand waist- or chest-high and talk about things that they were most likely talking about just moments before in the comfort of their lawn chairs.

Didn't they know how much fun we were having? Of course they did, and that is why they were, as mentioned, a bunch of cold-hearted meanies. The lifeguards, that is.

Well that all changed today. With that whistle, I was instantly liberated from a pool filled with ball-wielding, diving ring-retrieving, foam noodle floating, Energizer-battery-using kids, as I found myself embracing the serenity of the overly-chlorinated pool water as it shimmered under the hot sun. It was glorious.

Instantly, it all made sense. The years of anguish and hatred for those red bathing-suit donning Baywatch-wannabe-lifeguards was immediately transformed into loving acceptance, and, commendation for their having the presence of mind to keep it real for us older crowd.

Yes, I am only 23. But dammit, I am an adult.