We've established here at MYE that we love this time of year, for the most part embrace the heat, and all love the beach, especially with a cooler full of coldies.
But one cannot live by beach alone.
Sometimes the craving for the unsandy loveliness of a pool is overwhelming. And sometimes there's no pool in sight. Or is there?
Let's hear your best, or worst, or favorite pool crashing story. And if you don't have one, well, you better get at it.
Beth:
We now belong to a pool, so don’t have the day-to-day need to crash, but we’d been crashing said pool for a few years prior to becoming members. In fact, it was not until they installed metal plates on the pool gates, making it impossible to reach your hand through to push the metal bar to freedom, that we joined. But join we did. Now our entertainment is sneaking in food and beverage in creative ways so that we are not stuck paying their ludicrous pool bar prices.
We’ve been known to crash pools while on vacation though, most recently in Scottsdale when we were staying in a relative’s condo. The complex had it’s own little pool where crashing was unnecessary, but up the street just a wee bit was a big gorgeous pool at the Valley Ho.
Crashed it we did. We could not resist. And, as usual, it was so damn easy. The key to crashing is confidence. As long as you look and feel like you belong, you have no problem. Simply pretend talk on your mobile until someone enters the gate, step forward to gingerly catch it before it closes and you are in. Like Flynn. With board shorts.
Jacquie:
Oh, I do so enjoy a lovely pool. When I've got my druthers, I'll always choose the beach, but sometimes the appeal of comfy chaises and frosty cocktails is pretty strong. My husband, on the other hand, is a notorious pool crasher. He is lucky enough to have summers off with the kiddos, and they've cut a path throughout the city to find the best spots. It's become almost an epidemic. They chatter on about the pros and cons of each spot as we drive down the freeway. I've got to hand it to them, they've found some pretty fabulous options. Their requirements are easy parking, a hot tub, and a bar. Can you match the requirement to the individual? The need for an unlocked gate goes without saying, right? Sometimes I tag along on these missions, and I'm not always impressed with the result. One day Autumn and I took the kids to one of the pools that Bill and the kids are always raving about, and it turned out to be a total pit under the freeway! But it had easy parking, a hot tub, and a bar.
A couple of years ago on Memorial Day, we packed up and headed downtown to one of the big hotels where we'd successfully crashed previously, only to find that they were now requiring wristbands! That was embarrassing enough to put a halt to my pool crashing days for most of that summer, but the kids and their dad gallivanted around the town's water holes almost daily. Around Labor Day that year, I took the kids in for an eye exam, and when the doctor came in to chat up his patients, he asked what they'd been doing all summer. My boy responded: "mostly just sneaking into hotel pools." I died.
Ellie:
Like father like son, Jacquie.
Unlike my lovely co-bloggers, I'm not so fond of the pool. I grew up in a pool -- every day at 6 p.m. my mom would drag my ass out of the pool that I had been in all day long so we could all go home and scarf down dinner. I was a hungry, hungry child. Anyway, I think my veins are still full of chlorine, so unless I'm working out, or flipping my nieces and nephews into the air, give me a beach anytime.
That said, my nieces and nephews do visit, and when they do visit, that means one thing and one thing only: Cannonball Contest! I opt not to compete in the contest, especially after my nephew said last year "Come on, Aunt Ellie! Last time you made a splash as big as a whale!" Harumph. No, instead I choose now to be a judge of all those flying cannonballers. And in 2008, I was the special, first-time-ever underwater judge.
And my point? My point is that every time my wee niece -- whose water displacement made a splash as big as a minnow -- cannonballed, she and I waved to eachother. Underwater.
Jacquie:
Oh, I do so enjoy a lovely pool. When I've got my druthers, I'll always choose the beach, but sometimes the appeal of comfy chaises and frosty cocktails is pretty strong. My husband, on the other hand, is a notorious pool crasher. He is lucky enough to have summers off with the kiddos, and they've cut a path throughout the city to find the best spots. It's become almost an epidemic. They chatter on about the pros and cons of each spot as we drive down the freeway. I've got to hand it to them, they've found some pretty fabulous options. Their requirements are easy parking, a hot tub, and a bar. Can you match the requirement to the individual? The need for an unlocked gate goes without saying, right? Sometimes I tag along on these missions, and I'm not always impressed with the result. One day Autumn and I took the kids to one of the pools that Bill and the kids are always raving about, and it turned out to be a total pit under the freeway! But it had easy parking, a hot tub, and a bar.
A couple of years ago on Memorial Day, we packed up and headed downtown to one of the big hotels where we'd successfully crashed previously, only to find that they were now requiring wristbands! That was embarrassing enough to put a halt to my pool crashing days for most of that summer, but the kids and their dad gallivanted around the town's water holes almost daily. Around Labor Day that year, I took the kids in for an eye exam, and when the doctor came in to chat up his patients, he asked what they'd been doing all summer. My boy responded: "mostly just sneaking into hotel pools." I died.
Ellie:
Like father like son, Jacquie.
Unlike my lovely co-bloggers, I'm not so fond of the pool. I grew up in a pool -- every day at 6 p.m. my mom would drag my ass out of the pool that I had been in all day long so we could all go home and scarf down dinner. I was a hungry, hungry child. Anyway, I think my veins are still full of chlorine, so unless I'm working out, or flipping my nieces and nephews into the air, give me a beach anytime.
That said, my nieces and nephews do visit, and when they do visit, that means one thing and one thing only: Cannonball Contest! I opt not to compete in the contest, especially after my nephew said last year "Come on, Aunt Ellie! Last time you made a splash as big as a whale!" Harumph. No, instead I choose now to be a judge of all those flying cannonballers. And in 2008, I was the special, first-time-ever underwater judge.
And my point? My point is that every time my wee niece -- whose water displacement made a splash as big as a minnow -- cannonballed, she and I waved to eachother. Underwater.
1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 
Cannonball!
Pools, oceans, streams, stock ponds, bathtubs...anything with cool water is OK with me. With nighttime lows of 186 degrees, I want to be anywhere there is cool or even luke-warm water. But I don't do cannon-balls.
ReplyDeleteoscar? lil oscar? come out,come out wherever you are!
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