The Lazy River

The second-story view of the Lazy River is really the best view. From the ground floor, your view is obstructed by the black iron fence that runs the perimeter of the river. From the third floor, you're too far away to have that sense of tactile proximity that makes the river so tantalizing. But from the second floor, you're close enough to be hypnotized by the water as it swirls around in a counter-clockwise direction, meandering in a wavy oval around the man-made island.

Just one floor down, past the tennis courts, into the gate, and there you are.

You expect the water in the Lazy River to be cool, to give your body a mild shock. After all, that would follow every swimming pool experience you've ever had. However refreshing those pools were, the first few seconds were always a tad cooler than your skin was cozy with. Not so with the Lazy River.

Upon dipping your toes onto the first step, you're delightfully surprised that the water is somewhere between normal pool water and a hot tub. In fact it makes sense that the water isn't too cold because the purpose of the Lazy River is not to swim, but to drift. Lazily.

You ease into your large inner tube, careful not to get too much of your body wet. You don't want to feel a single chill from the gentle breeze that comes from moving along the water. You push off the concrete side with your big toe. The jet-propelled current floats you along, ever so gently.

You smell the desert air as you glide past the local flora that is symmetrically planted along the island. Some of the shrubs have bright fuchsia flowers, others are shades of green that shimmer in the sunlight.

You pass the hot tub nestled in the island, surrounded by small trees and chaise lounges. A young couple relaxes in the bubbles, chatting, holding cups with not-so-mysterious liquid inside. You're saving the hot tub for later, when you get chilly.

As your tube turns your face towards the sun, you close your eyes and keep them closed. You're still moving, but your eyes are closed. It feels a little reckless. It feels as though you're moving much faster than you really are. You take a peek with one eye to make sure no one is nearby that you could bump into. The coast is clear so you close the eye.

You feel the sun's warmth travel along your skin as you revolve like the earth. First on your nose, then on your left ear, then on the back of your neck, then on your right ear, and back to your nose. You open your eyes to observe the shadows of your head and strands of hair as they creep along the front of your legs when the sun is at your back. You just remembered the pleasure of slow-moving things.

The voice of Lily Allen sings faintly within the hidden stereo system as you pass an older man lounging in his chaise. You imagine that in the summer, the man's belly is a shade of crisp bronze, but so early in the year, his rounded paunch resembles the subtle golden brown of a raised calzone during its last minute in the oven.

Two boys, about 12-years-old, pass you by. They don't have inner tubes. Rather they like the feeling of swimming effortlessly yet speedily along the river. They've been doing this for almost two hours. Later you'll challenge them to a race.

Right before you're back at the steps, you pass under the small bridge that leads to the island. It's only a couple seconds of shade, but you can't wait to feel the sun again.

As Seal starts crooning through the speakers, you decide to stay in the Lazy River indefinitely. Because there's nowhere else you need to be.