To practice my drowning… I mean, swimming… outside of class, I headed to the local Wills Park Pool.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed it was fairly crowded. That gave me mixed feelings. On one hand, I was about to embarrass myself in front of a lot of people. On the other hand, if I accidentally wandered into the deep end, there would be plenty of witnesses… and hopefully a few willing rescuers.

Fortunately, the parking spot closest to the entrance was open.

Unfortunately, it was reserved for “Rockstars of the Week.”

Now, most sensible people would have parked across the road where there we empty spots.

I am apparently not one of them.

I walked into the front desk and made my case.

“I am learning to swim,” I explained. “It can be independently verified that I sink like a rock. Not just this week, but every single week. Doesn’t that qualify me for that parking spot?”

The nice lady at the front desk did not so much reject my argument as gently shooed me away.

Fair enough.

By the time I came back outside, the spot next to the Rockstar space had opened up.

Honestly, that suited me just fine.

I figured I should probably learn to float in the water before floating any other stupid ideas.

Well, technically, the second time. Crossing 60 puts me in a different age group in the 5K races. While it has not gotten me any medals, it has at least moved me from the end of the group to the middle. My plan to eventually get a medal is deeply rooted in outliving all those other sexagenarians.

Back to my story.

I had this brilliant thought: I will try some floating exercises in the pool today so I do not forget what the coach told me. However, in my new house, I am fresh out of a pool. So, I decided to give it a try at the local community pool.

I explained to the lady in the front that I am a beginner and I just wanted to practice. What should I do? She told me that all the lanes were first-come, first-served and were now occupied.

“Lanes??” I asked her, thoroughly perplexed. “I want something that will stop me from getting into your lanes by mistake. I just want to be in the 4-5 feet area and try floating on my back.”

“Oh, you can come in then.”

“How much do I owe you?” said I.

“$7”.

Now, there was a young gentleman sitting next to her listening to our conversation. A bit bemused, no doubt.

He suddenly piped up.

“Are you from Alpharetta?”

“Yes,” I said. “Walking distance from here”.

“Then it is $5!” said the original lady. “Can I have your license?”

I was more than glad to hand it to her and save two dollars trying to keep my head above water.

“Are you over 60?” she asked.

In my mind, I was going, “YOU HAVE MY LICENSE IN YOUR HAND. DO THE MATH.”

In real life, I sheepishly nodded.

“Then it is $2 only.”

That sheepish nod became a bit more vigorous upon hearing about the windfall.

… …

That was pretty much the only victory I had this evening.

Once in the pool, there were only a few noticeable differences between the Titanic and me.

Ah, well!

For a guy with an unhealthy fascination with islands, it is a bit of a mystery that I never learned to swim. I have lived with a pool in my backyard for 24 years. Many kids have learned to swim in them. Friends have done laps in them. I guess I was too busy making cocktails and serving around to figure out how to stay afloat in water.

Every year, Sharmila and I solemnly resolve that we are going to learn to swim. We have managed to keep many things in our lives afloat – our marriage, our finances, our general sanity – but our actual heads in actual water are not among them.

Then, out of nowhere, Sharmila announced that she had signed me up for swimming lessons! Gulp!!

And so there I was at a swimming school, getting formally re-introduced to the concept of a pool.

The first day’s assignment was simple: float on my back. That’s it. Just… exist horizontally in water, which, I am told, most humans can do instinctively. My teachers – and there were several, suggesting they had received advance intelligence about this particular student – were fairly surprised at my initial performance. Apparently, no other student had failed all 25 attempts you made them go through on the first day.

Towards the end, they had become more sympathetic than instructive. One young teacher concluded, just before we got out of the water, that I had a lot of muscles. That is why, apparently, I was finding it difficult to stay afloat.

Yeah, right! I did not have the heart to tell him that Sharmila has also signed me up to the Weight Watchers’ Club!