Enjoy summer before it slips and wiggles away
Search for water makes some folks crazy from the heat
By Mark W. Mayfield
The other day, while driving by one of those fancy, newfangled water parks, I started reminiscing about the good ol' days. Then running around in a wet bathing suit was something you did in the privacy of your own neighborhood, away from the prying eyes of strangers.
My fondest memories are from the summer of 1969, when my parents purchased a large inflatable swimming pool. I remember that the pool required many hours of oral inflation. Other recollections are a little fuzzy because extensive hyperventilation permanently damaged my memory.
My best friend and I enjoyed inflating the pool because the resulting lack of carbon dioxide in our blood made us talk very slowly, like those "weirdo hippies" who were always on the news. When one of us could no longer remember his name, the other took control of the coveted inflation valve.
"What's your name!?" my best friend asked after my first few blows.
"MARK!" I replied forcefully. "What's your name?" he impatiently asked two minutes later. "Mark," I answered with dwindling confidence. "What's your name?" the pesky jerk asked after another minute. "Maaaarrrrk?" I mumbled unconvincingly. "WHAT'S YOUR NAME!?" the pushy idiot immediately demanded.
"I dooooon't knooow," I replied in a groovy, hippie-like voice, "but I looooove blooooowing up thisssss pooooooool."
"MY TURN!" my stupid ex-best friend yelled triumphantly.
When the pool was finally inflated, and after I remembered my name, I invited a few standby best friends over for a fun-filled day of swimming, splash fights and a dangerous homemade game called "Underwater Death Duel with Plastic Daggers."
That night, my family's ankle-biting Shetland sheepdog, Frisky, viciously attacked the pool, apparently believing he had apprehended a gigantic blue burglar. I can still hear poor Frisky frantically yelping as a huge tidal wave carried him across the backyard and into the chain-link fence.
Our beloved pool was punctured beyond repair, but that didn't prevent me from valiantly trying to reinflate it until the next morning. After the pool's demise, dubbed the "Frisky Incident of '69" in history books, neighborhood kids searched for other ways to beat the heat.
We didn't have a Slip N' Slide, so we made our own. Our first version, fashioned from 25 feet of Handi-Wrap, was a failure because the thin plastic clung to our wet bodies and sometimes obstructed our breathing holes. We then tried drenching the sidewalk with water, but after a few slides, our torsos resembled raw hamburger. Finally, we discovered that a flooded strip of lawn makes a satisfactory Slip N' Slide.
Unfortunately, one record-breaking slide ended tragically when the slider's head slammed against an avocado tree at the end of the strip. "BOSS SLIDE!" amazed spectators yelled after the feat. "Huh?" mumbled the confused slider, temporarily unable to understand speech because of his tree-related head injury.
When a group of concerned parents outlawed our homemade Slip N' Slide, we reluctantly resorted to my least favorite water toy, the Wham-O Water Wiggle, which terrified and traumatized an entire generation of children.
Powered by an ordinary garden hose, this demonic plaything flailed wildly around the yard, whipping, slapping and choking innocent children. One Saturday afternoon, Water Wiggle set his sights on me. He relentlessly chased me across the yard and into the street, completely ignoring several slower kids who were within easy striking distance. Just when I thought I was out of his hose range, he lunged and wrapped himself around my neck.
"TURN OFF THE WATER!" somebody screamed. "HE'S GOT MARK!!"
As the lifeblood slowly drained from his despicable conical head, Water Wiggle unwillingly loosened his stranglehold, never losing that insane smile. When I regained my composure, we resurrected the plastic psychopath for another assault. I don't know why we did it. We were crazy kids doing crazy things in crazy times. Perhaps we subconsciously enjoyed the thrill of living on the edge.
Anyway, I know that you're expecting valuable nuggets of timeless wisdom from today's column, so here they are: Handi-Wrap doesn't make a good Slip N' Slide, so don't try it. An avocado tree shouldn't be at the end of a long lawn strip, so don't plant one. "Underwater Death Duel with Plastic Daggers" is a dangerous game, so don't play it.
And, finally, summer can be very hot, so just kick back, chill out and hyperventilate with a large inflatable swimming pool. Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to settle a little score with Mr. Wiggle.
Mark W. Mayfield doesn't really condone recreational hyperventilation. In fact, he encourages readers to "Just Say No" to inflatable pools.
Los Gatos, California Since 1881
