I’ve never been much for those little bikini things…and I’m probably the only one who thinks a guy wearing a Speedo is completely normal. You see, I grew up spending my childhood in lycra swimsuits and unheated very chlorinated pools. In Eastern Oregon there were only two things to do in the summer: swim or get in trouble. Since I didn’t become a trouble maker until after I left home, I chose to spend my summers swimming. I spent so much time in the pool in Ontario, Oregon that it wasn’t until I was an adult that I learned that my hair is actually reddish brown and not greenish blonde. I grew up in one piece painted on lycra swimsuits that were meant to stay on and did. They were also incredibly comfortable. No wedgies, no chafing and no matter what you did in the water or off a diving board, those suits stayed in place. A 2-piece swim suit didn’t enter my wardrobe until I was sixteen and had my first job.
I purchased my first new hot pink bikini with money I’d earned working as a sales clerk at a Jay Vee store; one of the juniors clothing stores in the mall. As I look back on it now, it was a hideous suit. It tied around the neck like a halter and it tied in front on the top. It also tied on both sides on the bottom. Not unlike many of the styles you might see in stores today. Ugly as I think it is now, it was the ultimate to me then. It signified a sort of coming of age and a growing independence from my very strict and modest parents.
It was summer and Eastern Oregon swelters most of the time during the summer months. That’s why it is such fertile farmland. The dry dusty heat of the high desert pervades everything. Though I hated the landscape and the area most of the time I grew up, I came to love the hot, dry, sweltering heat of summer, especially if I could be around water. Deathly hot weather was perfect weather for swimming in unheated pools because after a few weeks the temperature in the pool actually warmed to something past frigid.
This particular summer was one of the last I remember spending in Ontario. My girlfriends and I were bored and wanted to do something for the afternoon. We weren’t able to get clearance from parental units for a Boise, Idaho excursion to the water slides so we had to think of other alternatives for entertainment. I think one of my friends had a thing going for one of the lifeguards at the new aquatic center in a nearby town called Payette. In fact, I think most of us had a thing for him. His name was Dave and he possessed the most massive chest, shoulders and biceps of any person I’d ever seen. His body was the perfect triangle, broad massive shoulders, muscular arms and chest winding down to a perfect six-pack of abs and small hips adorned by, you guessed it, the red Speedo suit of the Payette swim team. He was a champion swimmer and boasted medals from state and regional competitions since he was swimming in the 8 and under category. His body looked every bit the part. It was no wonder half the Snake River Valley had their eyes on him. He was truly something to behold. We knew he was a lifeguard at the Payette pool (we always called it the pool even after it became an aquatic center). There was little resistance from my group when the option to watch him in action came up. We headed six miles across the river to the little town of Payette. I was wearing the hot pink two-piece thing and feeling like I was all that. It really was a great color for my tan skin and I was ready for an afternoon of sunning myself on the deck and checking out the local sights.
The Aquatic center boasted two pools and they were both open. We wanted to catch some serious rays. We also wanted to watch the people going off the boards and Dave was lifeguarding outside, so we found warm cement about the middle of the deck, somewhere near the lifeguard stand. Usually, it is the guys or the little kids who spend most of their time going off the boards. There is a reason for this, but I was yet to learn it. The guys our age were obviously showing off and they were terrible. Oh sure, they had great cannonballs and swan dives, but anything beyond that usually ended up in belly flops or something equally disastrous. It wasn’t long before my arrogance (or was it swimmer’s confidence) got the best of me. I just had to go show off. I knew I could land a perfect pike dive off the shortboard with little or no splash. I also knew I could land a single and double front flip and back flip but that would a little too flambouyant and I needed to warm up. I got up and strolled over to the board. My girlfriends told me I was crazy. I should have listened but didn’t. I waited in line. Finally, it was my turn. I hopped confidently up on the board, paced out my dive to the end, tested the spring of the board once and returned to my starting point. I turned around and faced the water. One, two, three, and spring and I was airborne with some awesome height. Straight up, pike at the waist and dive through the pointed toes and let your legs follow through.
You can tell a good dive by the way it feels from the minute you leave the board and this one felt great. As my fingertips sliced into the water, I enjoyed the sensation of the water traveling up my arms, enveloping my head and sliding sensuously down (or up) my body to my waist and then, oh no, oh no!!! With horror, I realized a sensation I’d never felt before…that of water on bare skin where fabric should be. I had forgotten I wasn’t wearing my lycra competition suit. I could feel the bottom part of my swim suit traveling with the water past my knees, past my feet and off my body. The height of the dive and the angle of my entry had created such a force that the flimsy bottoms of my bikini literally washed right off me. I had been de-pantsed and I’d done it to myself. Fortunately, I was an excellent swimmer and swimming underwater with my eyes open is something I had great practice at. I was able to rescue my swimsuit before it got too far away from me, but I can only imagine how the entire spectacle appeared from the pool deck as I scrambled to dress myself before resurfacing. I was painfully aware, as I struggled underwater that chlorinated public pools are usually crystal clear and water tends to have a magnifying effect. Those viewing my escapade from the pool deck were not only seeing everything with perfect clarity, they were probably viewing it with magnification. When I did surface, I had the oddest sensation that every eye at the pool--every eye, from those of the dorky little kids who were never told that it is rude to point, to the eyes located slightly above the snickering lips of the teenage boys there--were on me. Then I realized that it wasn’t just me that had caught their attention…though I had most assuredly caught their attention judging from the looks on the faces. Just as captivating was Dave, hovering over me, tan biceps rippling in the summer sun, Speedo at my eye level, reaching out to offer me assistance out of the pool. Despite the refreshing temperature of the water, I could feel an unpleasant heat rise up my neck and into my cheeks and ears, as Dave leaned over, grasped my hand, pulled me out, and whispered in my ear, “ So, uh… you doing anything later?” I searched his face for mockery of some sort, but to my surprise, he was completely serious. “I have to work tonight,” I responded. “But I get off at nine.”
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