Thursday, July 23, 2015

Peeing in the Pool

I was swimming at my sister-in-law’s pool a couple of weeks ago with my other sister-in-law.

“I have to pee,” I told her.  “I guess I won’t piss in the pool since it’s smaller than a public one and a family member owns it.”

I thought I was being really generous; in normal circumstances we wouldn’t have even had the conversation because I’d have already peed, nobody being the wiser.

“GROSS!” my sister-in-law shouted, moving away from me. “Do you really do that?”

“Of course I do,” I answered.  “And I tell the boys to do it, too.”

It’s true.  I tell my sons that unless it’s a number 2 coming out of them, they should just do it in the water because I don’t want to have to get up and take them to the nasty pool bathroom every five minutes. 

The younger one’s having a hard time catching on; last time we were at the public pool, he told me he had to pee.  I did that shifty-eye thing where I looked around to make sure nobody was listening, and then I leaned close to whisper in his ear, “Just do it right now.”

“WHAT?!” he yelled, shocked and appalled that I would suggest such a thing. He pulled away from me, and with his loud, squeaky, confused voice, I knew that everyone in the pool could hear his next question.  “MOMMY, why did you tell me to pee in the pool?  I can’t PEE IN THE POOL!!”

I swear he almost got a time-out for that.

Listen, I know it’s gross. That’s why I don’t stop to think about it for too long.  Because I also know that all of the other people are doing it—the honest ones have told me, and believe me, there are a ton of them out there—and that, supposedly, the chlorine is supposed to sort of “clean it up.”  I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t question it. I just pee.

Ten years ago, the hubs and I took our honeymoon to Jamaica.  One afternoon, we found this great little swim-up bar at our resort and joined two other couples in pounding rum-filled drinks over the next four hours.

At one point, one of the other husbands, a guy from New York with big biceps and a thick accent, started laughing.

The others of us smiled politely but looked around at each other, confused.

“What?” we all kept asking.  “What?”

Finally he stopped laughing long enough to speak. “I just realized that we’ve been sittin’ here drinkin’ for 4 hours,” he explained, “and not one of us has gotten up to take a piss.”

Slowly, we all began to look around us, first at each other—each of us both a victim and a perpetrator of the crime—and then at our surroundings.  You could tell from the disgusted looks dawning on our faces that we had all noticed the stagnant lazy river, tinged with yellow, at the same time.

And it kind of smelled.

But we were drunk on rum, you see.  So the next thing that happened was that we all started laughing and ordered another round.

“It’s on me!” my new husband shouted.  It was his favorite joke all week because the trip was all-inclusive, but in this case, it took on a double meaning and we laughed all the harder.

Back at my sister-in-law’s pool, my other sister-in-law was glaring at me.  “You’re not doing it right now, are you?” she snarked, still wading to the other end of the pool.

“No, DRAMA QUEEN,” I sighed, moving to the stairs so that I could get out of the pool.  “I already said I wasn’t going to do it in here.  But if you have an issue with it, you probably shouldn’t come with me the next time I go to the public pool.”

My sister-in-law grimaced and called after me as I walked into the house.  “You’d better hope you never swim in one of those pools where they use that dye that turns red every time someone pees in the water!”

I turned back to her, rolling my eyes.  “This isn’t a Kevin James movie, dude.  This is life.  They’ve been threatening that dye shit since I was a kid, and it’s still not a reality.

“And besides,” I added, deciding to be kind and impart one last piece of wisdom to my sister-in-law, who is, after all, 4 years younger than I am and could obviously use it, “I’m smart about it. I watch the shallow end of the pool—you know, the side that’s really warm because of all of the snot-nosed toddlers pissing in it?—for like 10 minutes.  If the water’s not turning red over there, it sure as hell isn't going to turn red where I decide to pee.”

My sister-in-law acted like she wasn’t listening, but I knew she was, so I continued.  “Then, when I do it, I let a little bit seep out first just to make sure.  And guess what?  THERE’S NEVER ANY RED.”

But goddammit, whoever started that rumor was brilliant because I swear, despite all of my Kevin James movie talk, I still worry a little bit about the elusive dye every single time.

I wish I could end this story by saying that after all of this peeing-in-the-pool talk, I noticed that my sister-in-law didn’t get out of the pool again for the rest of the day. 

But she did.  And each time she clambered out to hit the restroom, she gave me this holier-than-thou look, like, This is what a grown-ass adult should be doing when she needs to pee and happens to be at the pool.


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  1. OMG I still worry about that too and leave the pool for the pee house!

  2. This is why I don't do public pools. Sure, I can't swim, but that's only second place to getting massively peed on. Also, let's be honest, what would happen if that red dye existed? People would have to evacuate the pool every 5 minutes after someone invariably peed in it. Then it'd be completely emptied, and then refilled again? Which would take forever in itself? That's not good for business. No, but wading around in pee is.

    Please remind me which hotel you will be staying at, darling, so I avoid the f*cking pool. Do you pee in the hot-tub, too?

    I must say, I do dig your honesty!! xxx

  4. I just started peeing in my pool. I feel so relaxed doing it. When I'm home alone I will always let it happen in the pool