I flipped an old man the bird today and I don’t feel bad about it at all. He totally deserved it. So, before you start shaking your head, please, allow me to explain.
We are staying in an RV park this week so we can drop our daughter off at college. This particular park refers to itself as a resort which must translate into “RV Assisted Living”. The list of rules that came with our welcome packet were the longest I’ve ever seen and appears to have been written by some crotchety old lawyer: “We close the front gate at 10pm so be in or stay out all night” and ‘No children under the age of 13 allowed in the hot tub and No one under 16 on holidays”– I’m assuming this is due to the well-known fact that on holidays, children under the age of 16 are more likely to pee in a hot tub than any other day of the year. I don’t know, I can’t come up with any other reason for this preposterous rule. I could go on listing more and more rules but it was this one that led to my uncontrollable display of digital vulgarity.
This resort which I will from here on refer to as Rolling Acres Assisted Living and Summer Camp for the Elderly, has a large swimming pool which is meticulously maintained and surprisingly, children of all ages are permitted in this pool and seem to be tolerated there. The pool is advertised as heated but I think this is a tactic to induce families to stay in the swimming area and away from the hot tub where the elderly men congregate like hippos at a watering hole. The pool is quite cold in fact, but I digress.
Our second day at Rolling Acres was actually sunny and warm and since my son absolutely loves the water, he begged me to take him swimming. Since I am such a great parent (as opposed to my husband who chose instead to stay back at the RV and “hook up the sewer” or some other weak excuse) I agreed, changed into my suit, and off we went. Now, I admit that I was aware of the “No child under 13 in the hot tub” rule and was also aware that my son is 10 years old which is, by legal terms. “under 13 years old”. We arrived at the pool with no intention of breaking the rules. My son was in the water immediately while I chose to stay warm and dry. One thing I did note, however, when we first walked in, was the boy who was wearing swim goggles and could not have been more than a year older than my son (which, if you hate math like I do, means he could not have been older than 11 and legally speaking, 11 is also “under 13”). This boy was not in the pool but (gasp!) in the hot tub! Dum DaDum Dum….He was having a great time diving into the bubbling water and just being a kid. There was no one else in the jacuzzi so he wasn’t bothering anyone and no one around us seemed to be annoyed either. And, you’ll never believe this but, the hot tub did not break down! The resort didn’t implode! The world continued on! The boy appeared healthy and well and while I can’t be certain, I never observed him peeing or pooping in the tub. So, at this point, I decided that the rule was more of a recommendation or a strongly encouraged kind of thing.
While my son was swimming, an older couple (older as in late 60’s-mid 70’s ish) came up to the pool. The man had quite a scowl and glared about at all the kids in the pool. He looked like the Tall Man from Phantasm only fatter and when he took his shirt off, (and after my temporary shock blindness wore off) I noted he was also hairier. His obvious displeasure with youth in general enveloped him like a putrid aura. I was immediately wary of him and decided to keep tabs on his whereabouts. It turns out his “whereabouts” was a chair in the corner of the patio where, I can only assume the gravitational pull was far greater than the rest of Earth because it was really pulling his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth down. It wasn’t long after Heat-Miser arrived that our little hot tub diver left. Almost immediately, Hairy Undertaker mosied over and got in. Now, most people enjoying a hot tub would sink down into the water and relax but not Grumpy Gargoyle. He went straight to the edge facing the pool, propped himself up out of the water and sat watching the kids…and sat…and sat like a toad in a swamp waiting for a fly.
I fully admit that at this point, I already hated him. A terrible thing to say, but I feel like he could very well have been one of Satan’s own demons (like one of his original ones, judging by his age. I mean I’m saying this guy had tenure in the demon ranking system). When he finally crawled out of the spa, my son asked if we couldn’t please go in for just a few minutes. It seemed reasonable to me after having seen the other boy in there and Hirsuit Toad-Man was back in his corner gravity chair. So, we walked over, opened the gate with the sign listing all the various rules applying to use of the hot tub including the previously mentioned “No child under 13 and No one under 16 on holidays” rule. Pretending I could not read English, I pushed through the gate, activated the jets, and we got in. I noted that the pot-bellied demon was leaving the pool area and the mood in the place significantly improved. My son and I sat and chatted like grown-ups. He did not dive or jump about. He sat maturely and enjoyed his time in the whirlpool. I was not enjoying it as much after I saw the scum line and the greenish hue to the water not to mention the huge amount of foam that was piling up in the center of the tub (all of which are signs of a dirty tub. My guess is remnants of toad-man scum and dirt from the floor of Hades but I can’t be certain).
It wasn’t long before my under 13-year-old decided he no longer wanted to stew in old-geezer broth so we got out, dried off, gathered our belongings and headed out the gate when who did we see stalking towards us and trotting along beside him….a member of the resort staff. We played innocent and attempted to pass them nonchalantly when the Gluttonous Monstrosity grunted and subtly (but not subtle enough, you wrinkled old fuck) gestured towards us. She (the demon-lackey) stopped us, looked my son up and down, and said “I don’t know how old he is but we have a rule that no one under the age of 13 is allowed in the hot tub”. I looked at her and gave her my best are you really wasting my time telling me this? Lady, I have better things to do than listen to this stubby dick’s ventriloquism act while I tried to decide my best course of action. He of course was walking back over to Hell’s corner of the pool as if he just happened to be walking in at the same time all this happened. As if I didn’t know he was the instigator of my castigation. The way I saw it, I had two choices: 1.) Say nothing, do not even acknowledge this little sub-demon she-devil or 2.) open my mouth and present them both with a spew of profanity the likes of which they could never imagine or even have heard on their paltry little level of Hell. But I had my impressionable son with me and we had only just arrived at camp and I couldn’t face going back to tell my husband I’d gotten us kicked out already. So, I simply turned around and walked away but I burned the image of Mephistopheles in my memory because somehow, I was gonna get that corpulent, hoof-footed, horned beast.
Today, we decided to head to the mall and as we drove up to the pool area which is on our way out of the resort, when who did I see perched half out of the hot tub like a bloated, genetically mutated walrus corpse? Why, my very good friend, Harry the Tattler. He was doing his signature move–the I hate you all death glare. He looked up at our truck (a big loud diesel dooley) and looked right at me. I saw the recognition in his eyes and had but a split second to decide what to do. I flipped him the bird with just enough time left over to see the shock in his eyes before we turned the corner. Yeah, I guess I regret it looking back, I should have given him a double bird instead of one.