Laodicean Tub

R.a.n.t. of week 02/10/13

As those who are fairly close to me know, or if you keep up with me on Twitter or Facebook, I've been trying to lose some weight. Usually this consists of weekly Weight Watcher meetings, food tracking and attending Blast Fitness where I mostly run the track. After my time at the gym is complete, I like to sit in the steam room for a few minutes. Once in a while, I like to treat myself to sitting in the hot tub, as I did last night. Right away you are certainly thinking how miserable and awful it must have been. Au contraire mon frere, it was the one highlight of the evening. But as I sat there I got to thinking of my recent visit to the Wilderness of this past weekend. I've had problems with this place in the past (see bedbugs in a future r.a.n.t.) but I was willing to give this place another fair shake. I'm happy to report, overall the trip was good. Cue the ranting bit.

Why is it there must always be a dozen or so kids in the hot (cough) tub at any given moment? It's bad enough the water was lukewarm at best, but to deal with the rugrats on top of it. Why was the water lukewarm? It seems people like to have the section leading to the outside, open, even in the dead of winter. And it was a popular place indeed. I'm not so sure what the appeal was, but people love it. So I can't really fault the Wilderness for that. What's interesting to note is the lifeguards came within 30 seconds whenever a child younger than six was in the pool with its parent, to shoo them out. What about the other kids? They have an entire water park designed just for them. But no, one little girl wants to do flips in the hot tub. One little boy wants to practice his breast stroke. Another child looked like he was considering a cannonball if not for my stern look. And kids don't know how to simply walk from one end of the tub to the other, they must splash and spray everyone they pass. It half made me wish a 'hot tub time machine' actually existed. No, not for me, for the kids. Nothing would have delighted me more than to transport every single child a week into the past.