Coffee, Water, Wine.: Trapped

Coffee, Water, Wine.: Trapped: Today I was held hostage. Welllllll, kind of.   The story begins with me skipping out on responsibility.  Okay, not really.  I was supposed ...

Trapped

Today I was held hostage.

Welllllll, kind of.  

The story begins with me skipping out on responsibility.  Okay, not really.  I was supposed to be in volunteer training for CPR for the last two days but due to miscommunications and bad timing, I was unable to get the prerequisites finished in time.  I had already planned on staying with one of my cousins in Birmingham since that's where the training is and I live an hour away, so I called her up and told her I was still coming over but didn't have to go to the training.  It just so happened that she was off work today, so we spent the day doing whatever we so desired.  Turned out that our desire on this hot 95 degree Alabama summer day was to spend it poolside at the local community center close to where she lives.  

We decided before hitting the pool that we would hit the discount movie theater to check out Scott Eastwood in the latest Nicolas Sparks smarm.  I don't care for that type of movie and neither does she but we both agreed that staring at him for 2 hours was worth every penny of that $1.50.  Still couldn't tell you the entire plot of the movie though, or if it even had one-are Nicolas Sparks movies the chick flick version of porn-no plots, just a predictable movie set to a soundtrack?  All I can tell you is we swooned quite a bit over Mr. Eastwood Jr.  

We were still swooning when we finally made it to the pool.  Then we spotted a new object of swoon-possibly the hottest single dad in Birmingham (and then what appeared to be his silver fox single dad who joined him a little later).  

Our minds were distracted with hot men and the even hotter sun when we decided we would go dip in the pool to cool off.  When we made it to the pool's edge, my cousin pointed out that a lady we walked by was a local news anchor.  Then as we stepped further into the pool we saw a cameraman come around the corner, toting equipment to set up.  RIGHT NEXT TO OUR CHAIRS.  Since neither one of us has the self esteem to EVER handle being filmed in our swimsuits, we decided to wait it out deep in the pool.  

We secured a location at the far side of the pool, ducked into the water down to our chins, and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  We would lift our heads occasionally so that our eyes were slightly above cement level and we could monitor the progress of the news crew to know when we could make a break for it.  They set up the camera.  They appeared to film the spot.  They stood there for eternity.  Then it looked like they filmed another spot.  Then they stood there for another eternity.  There we were-trapped in the pool, held hostage by the local news crew and our own insecurities.

An hour later (but what felt like 5 hours when you are sitting motionless up to your chin in water), we noticed that the news anchor walked out the gates, but the camera tripod still stood and we had lost track of the cameraman.  I looked at my cousin in horror and said, "I hope like hell he is not behind us filming a close up of us acting like two creepers in the pool."  I slowly scanned the perimeter of the pool and thankfully he was not anywhere to be seen.  Then we located him again across the pool and saw him walk out the gate.  But the tripod was still set up and we figured they were probably going to film again for the 6:00 news.  There was no way in hell we were going to sit another hour up to our necks in chlorine, so after several minutes of deliberation and no signs of them coming back in the gates, we decided it was safe to return to our chairs, gather our belongings, and get the hell out of Dodge.  

So I succesfully evaded my captors and avoided being on the local news with all my jiggly parts exposed.  And the only scars I had thankfully were these:

A condition known as prune fingers.  

Wishing you all a high and dry evening,

Deb