Thursday, December 3, 2009


I am. Clearly. I'm always falling down... I could blame it on an inner ear condition or just not being spatially aware, but it's really down to genetics. My grandmother (on my father's side) was always falling down -- not the, "I walked into the door" as an excuse (because she was always black and blue everywhere). No, my grandfather never laid a hand on her; he didn't need to. She was ALWAYS falling down or walking into things and coming back worse for the wear.

I remember one time when they came out to Colorado to see the acres of land my father bought, the cousins all sat around waiting for the adults to return and when they did, my grandmother was holding her right arm -- blood dripping down from her elbow. None of us batted an eyelash, really, my older cousin calmly asked, "Granma... what happened this time?" She had walked into a fence. Not even a barbed-wire one; the cut was inexplicable.

So today I found a fabulous pool -- it's an Olympic-sized pool way out near Shea Stadium (out at the US Open facility) -- it's part of Parks and Rec here, the aquatic center at Flushing Meadow/Corona Park. When I say it's awesome, I'm not lying. It's clean... it's massive... it has a movable floor! They have open swim all the time and lap lanes set up all the time so there's no weirdness with people swimming willy-nilly. The one thing that I found odd was that this pool, like the other two I've visited, was full of Asian people. What gives? My mom isn't a big swimmer... I didn't think it was a cultural thing, but maybe it is and my mom just missed out on that one. My aunt was big on swimming (she's Korean, too) but I figured she was an anomaly.

Anyhow, it was a good day. I had to share a lane with two other people (three at one point) but everyone was very courteous. The only thing that freaked me out is that the portion of the pool set up for lanes is 7.5 feet deep all the way. I don't like not being able to rest my feet on the floor -- I have an irrational fear of drowning; so I just stuck to the edge where I'd be near a wall... something stable I could grip if I felt at all in danger.

On the ride back to Manhattan, I was exhausted. Again I was asked directions by someone and I had to kindly explain that I'm not from here... that I know where I'm going, but we can look at a map and figure it out together. Anyhow, tired, wet and cold, I lost my footing and fell on some poor guy just napping on the 7... no less than a minute later, once a seat vacated near me, I started towards it and tripped over a woman's feet. D'oh! Yeah, so I'm a clutz. So what.

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