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McCarren Park Pool Speaks Out: “I expected heavy volumes of pee.”

Updated: Aug 02, 2012 17:25
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An open letter from the McCarren Park Pool:

When you’re a pool you need to realize right off the bat that a couple thousand kids are going to pee in you everyday. You suffer that humiliation willingly because of the joy you bring them. What’s a little pee against thousands of smiling faces? Besides, there’s chlorine in the water. There isn’t a pool in the world that doesn’t experience the same thing, except for maybe those really fancy pools in hotels that don’t allow children. But we public pools take our golden showers with pride, knowing that we are serving our communities with a FREE way to cool down in the summertime.


Thus, when I – the McCarren Park Pool – opened last June, I expected some heavy volumes of pee, a little garbage, the occasional dollar bill, and probably some fat guys in white t-shirts swimming with sneakers on. What I didn’t expect was that some classless d-bags would start doing backflips into me. Okay, there’s a reason I don’t allow backflips: some showoff invariably gets hurt trying to impress the ladies, and I wind up getting sued. How fair is that? So I don’t allow them and my owners are so kind as to contract lifeguards to keep that from going down. Now, you would expect patrons to listen to these lifeguards, but alas they don’t, so my day gets disrupted when these jerks start shoving the lifeguards around and then we have to shut down early. I’m the kind of pool that needs a schedule and a routine. I can’t deal with chaos… not since Nancy left me.

For a while after that first incident, everyone seemed to calm down, allowing my cool waters to soothe their hot tempers. But soon the fragile peace collapsed with a series of incidents that makes me just want to leave the public sector entirely. I have cousins in the great lakes. Do you think they get their waters stirred up by rioting Jersey-shore wannabes? Do you think they’ve ever had pepper spray in their waters? Back when I was a mere wading pool, I used to make fun of my cousins by asking them how bear shit tasted.


But a few weeks ago, someone pooped in me. Yeah. How do you even accomplish that in public? I didn’t even notice it! You’d think the newspaper and grunting would have tipped off the lifeguards but nope. Nothing. Then some little kid stepped in it. Well, there go the smiles that I’m supposed to bringing to their faces. Truth be told, I would prefer to have bears defecating in me. There’s something natural and pure about that. I can imagine bear doodoo smelling like honey and red meat, which is probably a rather alluring combo. The McCarren Park Mystery Defecator, on the other hand, lives on hot fries and slurpees. Gross.


To make matters worse, the media just clings to each and every blemish on my nearly pristine history. It’s not like anyone is getting hurt… well except for that girl with the broken nose, but to be fair that technically happened outside of me. Still, to read the newspapers, you’d think I was operating in early 90s South Central. I’m a pool, not a monastery! I’m not charging $200 per entry. I’m not located in the W hotel. I’m a pool for the people. If the people turn out to be a bunch of angry, Quest for Fire Neanderthal Mad Max Jabrones, that’s not my fault.


Now, my owners are even thinking about instituting a registration system next year. Well great, now the cool people will really want to come. Man, I was told there would be premo bods swimming around in me. I was told it would some sort of glorious pool party free-for-all with
Brooklyn’s hottest inhabitants.


Instead here I am fantasizing about bear shit.



The McCarren Park Pool


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Jules Owen - Wandering Wastrel

Jules Owen - Wandering Wastrel

Going to a rich kid school when you aren't even given an allowance certainly trains you to live large on the cheap. Armed with such expertise, Jules travelled the globe, surviving off of 50 cent beers and 2 dollar meals everywhere from Buenos Aires to Mumbai. Three years ago he returned to the United States, living first in Baltimore while he settled a debt with the IRS, then in Brooklyn where he plays music and writes. He aspires to one day live in a van on N.15th and Kent.