The children were running around,
hectically moving trying to find where they were supposed to be.
Parents had a blank look on their face. Some knew what to do but most
were just confused, waiting in lines they didn't understand moving in
a direction, if at all, that seemed less linear and more anarchic.
Voices that were meant to tell people
where to go were coming from places no one could see, in a muffled
tone that would embarrass a New York Subway conductor whose muffled
announcement is more a series of static and non-static than actual
language.
This is not a scene from Black Friday
shopping at Target, nor is it opening day at the Yard, or the much anticipated opening of "Fantastic Four" (which I am pretty excited about). This is the
annual Trophy Tournament Swim Meet. A gathering of hundreds of
swimmers and their parents that capstones the summer season.
The excitement is overwhelming. Truly
overwhelming. Maybe it's the smell of chlorine, the kids walking
around without shoes on or the people that have lawn chairs set up in
the gym that look like they're about to engage in a family cookout.
Or maybe it's just the mayhem and fear that among all this disorder
you arrived too late and somehow missed your child's event. But you
don't even want to think about that. You just hope that the staging
area is moving slowly enough to jam your children into their
event/heat/lane seat.
Then you leave them in their waiting
area, which must have a “No Parents” sign posted somewhere
because you're the only one holding your child's hand, more to pacify
you than him, then you leave to find a spot to watch.
Climbing the wet steps to the galley
above the pool, thoughts of accidents and tripping fill your mind.
Why aren’t theses steps dry? Surely this is a violation of many
safety codes? And I'm the more reckless parent. Why is my wife so
calm?
Upon entering the galley the first
thing that hits you is the heat, which explains the Boeing 747 Jet
size fan that is pointing to the audience. This place is hot, and why
wouldn't it be? The last thing they want to do is cool a room whose
money is well spent warming the water. Apparently this room was not
set up to host such a big tournament on a day that reaches 95 degrees
outside.
There's a problem. No one is in the
pool swimming. If nothing else this is one of the most efficient
competitions in existence. They have the uncanny ability to complete
events that a community pool may takes hours, even days, to do. So
what's the hold up?
Then the announcer starts reading off
license plate numbers that are blocking parking lots, and they are
holding us hostage until the cars are moved. Blackmail at its finest,
truly a bold and impressive move, but it's hot. Really hot.
Finally the race is back on track. The
swimmers move on through their events. Our kids swim. Actual viewing
time, exactly one minute. Scores are quickly posted. Families exit,
most without any trophies, but an abundance of personal victories.
And summer continues, as does the countdown to next year's season.