As we made our way back to our building, we passed a group of people seated under an umbrella who were chatting about the pool. A large man with a towel draped around his neck called out to us.
“Hey! Do you know what this unscheduled cleaning thing is all about? We come to a resort to be able to swim.”
Now you should know that my brother-in-law is a friendly guy. Put him in a check-out line beside a stoic or in a room with a cinder block, and he’ll get a decent conversation out of either. Given this streak of loquaciousness, he was happy to enlighten them.
“I’ll tell you exactly why they closed the pool, and that’s because somebody crapped in it. My own daughter was the one who stepped on it.” He jerked his thumb in Callie’s direction, who immediately tried to look illegitimate.
“Oh,” the man said, clearly sorry he’d asked. A couple of women around him shifted uncomfortably. Poor things. They were probably from some exotic and classy place far from the clutches of the Deep South. Such as Vermont. Jerry strolled over, and I heard Teena entreat the help of the Lord.
“Yeah, you think when you come to a high class place like this that people would know better, but I could tell by the size of it when I lifted it out of the water on that banana leaf that it wasn’t the work of a child.” He wagged his head in sorrow. “You sure don’t expect adults to do something so low class in a place like this.”
You could tell that none of his audience did either by their stunned silence. Seeing as they had been properly apprised of the situation, Jerry rejoined us where we stood huddled amidst a nice overgrowth of foliage. As soon as he reached us, Teena and I shot out like a couple of flushed quail, and Callie lit into him.
“Geez, Dad! Did you have to tell them everything?”
“Well, they asked.”
“Sure, but a full description and the banana leaf detail might have been a little over the top.”
“Look, if folks can crap in the pool, I can at least tell the story.”
A few minutes later, we stood in an elevator waiting for the doors to close when another family of four stepped in.
“Can you believe they closed the pool?” The mother’s eyes were shocked and mildly outraged as her offspring stood around her wearing water wings and Dora the Explorer swimsuits.
“They sure did.” Jerry paused, and the three of us sucked in enough air to deplete the oxygen levels in the elevator. He looked at us with merriment dancing in his eyes, and we didn’t exhale until the family exited on floor 3. As we stepped onto the 5th floor, Jerry asked, “Aren’t you proud of me for holding back?”
“Very,” my sister assured him as he dialed his phone. Moments later he was talking to my nephew, who was working that weekend.
“Hey, Blake! Guess what just happened at the pool?” Teena slipped the plastic key in the lock and ushered him inside.
© 2012 – Traci Carver