Palm Tree Pool
by
Richard Keenan

My primary school used to send us to this algae ridden pool. It lurked like a leech out the back of pretty suburbia. It had fake painted palm trees on the doors as you entered; the whole place was like a dark eerie fish tank that hadn't been filtered for years. The people who ran it were faceless monsters, and spent most of their time lurking in a dimly lit office and probably had food and drink supplies delivered to them via a semi trailer once a month, even though they lived next door to a shopping strip. It was strange to think these people even thought about running swimming lessons, maybe they just didn't want to pay someone who actually could, in fact they didn't really teach us anything. We would arrive in a rickety old bus that had brakes in that sounded like a dying rollercoaster. The bus was packed with scared loud kids and an overheated teacher. The temperature was so high that you could have cooked hamburgers on the leather bus seats. Your clothes stuck to you like Cling wrap. It was like it was all planned.  So no matter how algae ridden or green that pool was it felt like ' Surfer's Paradise' after been in that bus. We all lined up in skin tight Speedos, footy shots, quick silver board shorts and rich girl bikinis at the top of the deep end like firing squad participants, lilly white skin about to hit the green lagoon.  “Okay this is to see whether you have listened to all we have taught you ", announced Kev the swimming instructor, a snappy thin man who was allegedly very qualified but yet to even go near the water for the whole month of our classes.  All Kev did was yell and wave his arms around like a possessed windmill, which somewhat resembled butterfly and backstroke, then he would disappear for a while into his darkened office and watch us all with the door half ajar just in case someone got in trouble (I often wondered what he would do anyway), while he sucked down on a never ending supply of Pepsi and toxic cigarettes that lingered in the air with the cheap chlorine. “Right I want each of you to swim a lap of the pool, unaided!" said Kev. I looked around at the sorry lot that gathered at the deep end. Mocksy Tyrell was to be the first debutant; he was the palest and freckliest of the lot. He leap in and remained submerged as if his toes were made of concrete, slowly he resurfaced and gasped for some stingy air and started dog paddling like mad "Swim properly Mocksy what have you learnt?" screamed Kev as he waved around a giant cleaning pole like a giant hillbilly radio antenna. Mocksy slowly dribbled down the pool like a water logged bug and was fished out at the shallow end by Kev he copped a whack on the arse with the pole for his trouble. Mocksy yelped like a poodle and retreated to his penguin towel. Kev was annoyed he lit up a cigarette and drew back heavily I could see the orange glow from the other end of the pool.  “Now I expect a whole lot better from the rest of you, Mocksy you failed". Kev scalded him “Out of the pool". Mocksy sulked off into the distant change rooms and never resurfaced. There was a collective squirm amongst the rest of us. The next victim readied themselves, I stepped forward on the blocks and leaped into the green swamp thinking of leeches, suburban piranhas and hordes of mosquitoes that would engulf me, but all I got was the taste of stale piss and chlorine.  I launched myself into a tirade of free style and twisted dog paddle down the pool and looked up as Kev drew back on his Peter Jackson cigarette. It was hard going but I had been brought up at the beach and had learnt by getting dumped at Smith's Beach down at Phillip Island. I breathed deep and kept going and kicked out my feet wildly as I reached the end. The splash from my kicking sent murky green water all over Kev and his sissy pole and put out his smoke.  I hit the wall breathless and triumphant. Kev swung the pole at me and missed by a few inches. All those lurking up the deep end burst into laughter. I tried to get out of the pool, but I felt Kev’s shoes dig hard onto the tops of my fingers as I tried to climb out, he bent down and stared into my eyes they were horrid and blood shot. He was like haggard ghost"No one wets me last smoke". Kev stormed towards me in a desperate rage, but just before he did that, he threw his pool stick behind his head and it crashed like a deadly javelin into the fake palm tree entrance, the glass in the windows smashed onto the floor like a hundred clapping hands and the fresh air greeted my lungs and made Kev feel ill.   "You shit of a kid" Screamed Kev " But I did the lap??" I said. Kev lunged at me and I stumbled back as we hit the edge and both went sailing into the shallow end drink. This was the first time we had ever seen our swimming teacher enter the pool in a month , and it was far from an impressive display. He hit the water with a mid motion pin drop, I swam back to the other end faster than I had come the other way thinking any minute I would feel my ankle wrenched out of its socket . But I arched my neck back like a spy in a car chase and saw Kev, climbing out of the shallow end looking like a sooky cat, his pants, shirt were stuck to him like Tarzan grip and his Dunlop Volleys were ruined. He marched down to the deep end as best as he could but his feet squeaked like a dying bird or something stuck in a dishwasher.  He stopped in front of us and someone pointed. " Look, yuck" said one of the smaller girls who was at the height of Kev's waist it was then we all realized he was wearing nothing but a see through pair of baggy cream pants. “Well what are you all looking at aye"?. The laughter roared to chorus pitch at his flaccid wily. He looked down in horror and cursed " Shit I got me see thrus on" Kev squeaked down and ran into his office slamming the door and never resurfaced. The pool was soon filled with kids ripping of floaters, horsies and one legged bombs.  A month later we all received a certificate from Vic Swim stating from we had successfully completed our Beginners Module in Free Style Swimming , even Mocksy got one!