After a long drive down and back to Riverside County to visit my cousin, I stopped at the pool on the way home. As I finished kickboarding, a hot Russian chick, early twenties, dove in. She wore a pastel mini-bikini bottom and a blue tube top that didn't match. (But who cared?) Sticking close to her was an old guy, mid-60s, whom I thought might be family or determined to make a big fool out of himself.
In the steam room, I had the place to myself and stretched out sore shoulder muscles. Suddenly the old guy and the Russian chick entered. She had on Day-Glo Crocs that cut through the steam like lime-green fog lights. Taking a seat nearby, they started talking as if I weren't around. The old guy had an American accent, but kept his voice low. Meanwhile, she's laying out intimate life details in almost perfect English:
"Then, after school, I moved from Russia to California, Marina Del Rey. My boyfriend came over next. I helped him with his paperwork to get a Green Card. I was totally dedicated to him, then I found out he was cheating on me the whole time. I couldn't believe it."
Was the American with the INS? CIA? An old horn dog trying to pick up a gabby Russian chick in a mismatched bathing suit? Did she confront the boyfriend? Busted vodka bottles, Slavic threats shouted in the language of their motherland? A struggle? A blow struck with a thick, depressing book by Dostoevsky?
Three boisterous guys entered and broke the mood. The Russian chick clammed up. I hung around and did a few more shoulder exercises, but she was done, sweating in silence with her glowing Crocs.
I've marked the time of the incident. Friday, I'll go back. Hopefully, they'll be more. But if there isn't, there will be steam. Yes. Plenty of steam.
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4 comments:
Note to self: When you don't tell writers the whole story, they go nutty with their vivid imaginations.
Remember the the subtle trap most of us prose -for -brains types seem privy to...snarlingly covet the ability to experience an event for it's own sake, without rewriting the thing in your head, framing the dialogue and maybe even adding a few knock knock jokes- Russian ones.
We've all been there. I for one, feel an attack coming on right now, after the day from Elder Hell I've had...
I want to know what's and old dude doing with a hot Russian girl in a mismatched bikini!
It kinda reminds me of Frank Costanza and the man in the cape.
I've witnessed such winter-summer pairings in Las Vegas, but the dynamic was much more apparent.
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