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Wednesday, May 22, 2013
I am so law-abiding that I’ve only had one traffic ticket in my life. That was 25 years ago, and I was framed.
And yet, somehow, I always manage to run afoul of lifeguards. I like to float facedown in pools, and when I’m in a lake, to also swim way out.
OK, way, way, way out, like, where I’m closer to the people in the boats than to the ones on the beach. I can’t think of anything more relaxing, and yet, whenever I do it, there’s always some lifeguard telling me not to.
I think they are worrying needlessly. Not to disparage my figure too much, but my maker has endowed me with natural pontoons — both fore and aft — so I could float for days, as long as someone fed me. But lying on my back strains my neck, so I roll over every once in a while, and that’s when I get in trouble.
I can see their point. Neither the lifeguards nor I know when a stroke or heart attack might send me to Davy Jones’ Locker.
Maybe I should carry a flag that says “I’m still breathing.” If I ever let it go, that would be their cue to come rescue me.
Two flags would be even better. The second one would say: “Bring lunch!"