Pool Time

I left YHZ very very early in the morning. The temperature the day before had been -21ºC (-5.8ºF) with the windchill. When I got to TPA it was 35ºC  (98ºF) with the humidex, an astounding difference of 56 ºC (103.8ºF). I had been up for many hours. The humidity smacked. My ride from the aerodrome did not connect with me and I spent about two and a half hours on buses to get to The Compound.

The good thing about that was seeing places, streets, buildings and trees I remembered fondly from last year. Also the buses were air conditioned.

The rest of my day was spent in various discomforts: exhausted, sweat soaked, put off by various things. Mid-afternoon I went to pool. Surely this would cheer me up and cool me down.

not exactly as depicted

There were more people in the pool and at the pool than I ever saw last year. Geezers and their children and their grandchildren. In the pool. Around the pool. I sat for a while and scowled but nobody left. So I went in the hot tub, where nobody was. For a reason, as it turns out. Like, too effin’ hot.

Walked too far to get groceries. Etc.

When it got dark it felt like it was about seven billion o’clock but really just a bit after seven. I gave up, turned off the lights and lay down on a daybed next to jalousie windows (which I love). And slept very well until six this morning.

I had coffee and got out of the house, wanting to stay out of the way of a contractor finishing up the new bathroom my friend Jane has had put it.

I walked and had breakfast and took a bus downtown. I wanted to get to my happy place. IKEA. I have no earthly explanation for what happened next. I walked all the way from downtown. I don’t know what happened. First I was walking by the Hillsborough River on the Riverwalk, then I was on Channelside, then by the cruise terminals. No bus came so I just kept going, ending up, as is my habit and doom, in scrubby industrial territory.

Near Penny Street and Adamo Drive

I had various small adventures, resting on giant pilings under the Selmon Expressway, coming across a surprise gas station and guzzling a bottle of icy water. Sitting on the curb outside The Backyard Company.

In IKEA I had an ice cream cone and wandered around. Near the end of my tour, which was at least two hours long (air conditioning), the wail of a child began. The cries bounced off the concrete floors and walls, and echoed through the Swedish caverns, from Lighting to Textiles. Loud. Unending. Eventually I came across the unfortunate, flanked by two thirtyish women bending over him. He was still howling.

“Looks like somebody needs a nap!” I said. My tone was only the tiniest bit caustic. Jaunty, really. The kid looked up. The two women, as one, straightened up and in unison said, “Excuuuse me?” and then one said, “That was inappropriate!”

I didn’t stop to think about what I wanted to say. I just said,”Well, now I have a headache and I have to leave.” And I walked on.

About ten seconds later I thought of what I wanted to have said. Something along the lines of, “I’m sorry. I’m from Canada and that would not have been inappropriate back home. What would be inappropriate is dragging around a tired child until he can’t stand it anymore. But I guess it’s a cultural thing.”

I didn’t bump into them again, which gave me mixed feelings. By the time I left IKEA I had 12,997 steps on my pedometer. I walked up into Ybor City and sat on a bench guzzling a Diet Coke. I had a terrific view of the 9/11 Fallen Heroes Memorial right across the street.

When I got home at 4:30 I had 15,397 steps on my pedometer. In a heat wave.

At five I decided I had, had, had to go to the pool. And get in the water. No matter what.

There was no one there.

It was perfect.