A woman arrives at the baseball game and unfolds her fancy chair. It has armrests, a footrest, a cup holder and a canopy over her head. I keep waiting for her to pull out a remote so she can freeze-frame the triple plays.
I’d rather have a fancy bag – specifically, a fancy pool bag. Because going to the pool is like going on vacation. You gotta pack everything so you can find it, reach it, and dispense it – quickly.
Typically, I use the wide canvas bag. My theory is that you can just stick your head in there and quickly locate that rubber torpedo. But by the end of the day, you stick your head in there, and it looks like a bowl of some sort of stew you can’t quite identify – a mixture of oil, goggles, towels, earplugs, money, crackers and newspaper – floating in six inches of water.
I could design the perfect pool bag. And it wouldn’t be canvas, I can tell you that. Because nobody wants to pull their Vanity Fair out of the bottom of a soggy tote. It would have to be made out of rubber. White rubber, though, because I don’t want it to look like a tire.
It would need compartments. Maybe I design it like one of those accordion file folders. Then I could separate my items by category. Like I put my magazines in one section. My cell phone and iPod in another. My SPF 80 in the third. Maybe my flask in the fourth.
Or maybe I separate things by child. Have a section for my preschooler – his floaties, goldfish crackers and Dad’s cell phone number so when the whining starts he can call him. Then have one for my big boy – his goggles, his zinc and his allowance, so I don’t have to spend my last Starbucks dollar on his Nutty Buddy.
It’d be awesome if on one end there was a cooler – so after I eat that nice salad at the picnic table with the other moms, I can go back to my bag and have that frozen “Milky Way” in private.
And at the other end maybe have a tracking device. Not for my kids, but for the bag itself. Because inevitably somebody moves it off to the side, or behind a chair, or into the pool because it looks like a flotation device.
Actually it would be good if it tracked my kids. Maybe some sort of alarm if they make it back over to concession. Or into the ladies room. And it’d be great if it tracked The Husband. I’m not convinced you can only aerate during pool hours.
And then just like that lady with her fancy chair, I can sit with my fancy bag. And watch my little one do his first-ever dive off the diving board. Ugh – where’s that remote when you need it?