The Legend of Hairy Steve

I had heard about this urban legend for a while... but never would I have ever really truly believed it unless I had seen it with my own eyes.*

Then last night... there he was. Hairy Steve.

I had heard that this guy haunts the swim lap lane on the end of the pool, gives everyone a hard time, and swims not unlike a oversized frog with a bad twitch. To boot, and just to paint a picture, he "wears" a God-given sweater, the likes of which I have never seen. Someone gave him a name. Hairy Steve. I can see why.

And thus, my challenge last night was to share a lane with Hairy Steve, or AquaSquatch as I now affectionately call him. Now mind you, I don't have a thing against people whose swim stroke isn't perfect, or against large men who the The Man upstairs has generously added a extra layer of body hair, as I am not one of the prettiest and smoothest guys you've ever seen either. But these things add to the color of the person who doesn't seem to be able to be polite, or to share, especially when we're talking about something as rediculous as a swim lane - for 1/2 hour.

I tried, but after 15 minutes, I quit.

I got scratched or kicked every time I passed him in the opposite direction. Passing in the same direction was tough since he swims very slow and kicks out way wide. So rather than start a war over territorial waters, I played Switzerland and bailed on taking a stand. He was there first, and thus retained the right to be unwilling to make accomodations and be arrogant about it on purpose. But next time I will get there a little earlier, and claim the lane first, and thus my rules (the ones for fair play and being courteous) will be in effect.

So beware, AquaSquatch.

Next time, we play nice.

Or else.

* OK, that's exaggerated.

Adendum: Thanks Heather, but "smartassery" is Tasha's word. Taking full credit for that would incur her wrath and God knows I don't need THAT. Lest she order me another pink horn for my bike, or worse...