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The reason I remember the tales of this anti-pee agent was that it significantly affected my pool behavior. Previously, when poolside, there had been three reasons to get in the water: (1) too hot, (2) play keep away, (3) whiz. Attempts to discover which pools had been treated with the anti-pee agent met with little success - these attempts usually included involving the kids of the family who owned the pool, (or janitor or lifeguard, in the case of a public pool) in a conversation about pool-peeing. “So,” I’d begin, in a very casual manner, as to avoid arousing suspicion, “good thing you’ve got that anti-pee agent in the water, eh? That way we know the water is pee-free, eh?” What I was hoping for was for somebody to either confirm the presence of the anti-pee agent, or say something like, “heck no, if somebody peed in this pool we’d have ABSOLUTELY no way of knowing about it.” Unfortunately, nobody responded in either fashion. Usually they just clammed up about pool peeing and displayed a little smile on their face because, whether they had treated their pool or not, they knew they had defeated me. The result was a phase lasting for about two years of my young life that required me to constantly haul my little body out of the pool and hazard my way across the wet slippery concrete to some crazy-ass bathroom somewhere - it felt at times that these repeated bathroom forays were taking months out of my life, but what was I to do? A year and a half in, the development of a litmus-like test for the presence of anti-pee agent in pool water (green for “it’s safe to pee,” red for “Warning! Anti-pee agent present!”) stalled due to my complete ignorance of chemistry principles. However, the litmus test wasn’t all a waste of time, at least it gave me hope. But then I got to thinking… Wait a minute! I thought. In these two years’ time, how likely is it that nobody peed in a pool around me? Answer: not very likely! Anti-pee agent was only a myth, calculated to dissuade whizzers from casting their wares into pool water! My first careful, tentative pool whiz confirmed my theories. After that, I became more brash - you know, making up for lost time and all. Nowadays, with all my maturity and aged cynical wisdom and what not, I’d have a much more straightforward analysis, and one that would have required much less empirical evidence. It’s all about cost-benefit. Take a hotel pool, for instance, even assuming that it costs the hotel nothing to purchase and use an anti-pee agent, what does the hotel gain by identifying when somebody’s peed in the pool? Nothing! In fact, this would probably only cost the hotel, like in lost business and stuff after the hotel acquires of the reputation of having a “pee lagoon” or something of the sort. And having its guests unknowingly swim around in all sorts of pee, that doesn’t cost a hotel anything at all. Until a hotel or gets sued by somebody who was adversely affected by pee-swimming in some way, (and such a law-suit, by the way, would be totally rad, aside from the negative consequences to pool whizzers that would surely follow) hotels have no motivation at all to add anti-pee agent to their pools. Simply put, my dear and gentle reader, do not fear that neon yellow dye. If you are swimming and happen to find yourself taken by the urge to urinate, then by all means, do so in the pool! However, this isn’t to say that, when you do, nobody will know that you are peeing in the pool. There exist a few very clever and astute people with a keen insight into human nature. And if one of these people are present when you pool whiz, they might know, even in the absence of anti-peeing agent. My friend Nik G. won’t swim in hotel pools. “They’re full of pee!” she says. She’s not just speculating. She knows. You see, she’s one of these clever and astute people who can spot somebody whizzing in a pool. Just recently, while we were both poolside, she pointed out a boy squatting by himself, eyes just above water level, in a secluded corner of the pool. He was quietly blowing bubbles out of his mouth and appeared deep in contemplation. Nik’s eyes narrowed with contempt. “You see how they get all quiet like that?” she asked me. “That’s when it happens!” So now, when I am swimming with Nik, and I determine that the body of water could use a little, “warm up” (as I chucklingly remark silently to myself), I splash around and talk loudly about something inconsequential. It’s fine for now but I‘m afraid it won‘t last. It won’t be much longer before Nik G. figures out what I am up to. Brian 10:49 AM Comments: Post a Comment

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House of Noh!

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Do you remember childhood tales of an anti-peeing agent that could be added to pool water? I certainly do. The anti-pee agent came in powder form. The powder was to be spooned into the pool filter box. It would dissolve in the water and disperse throughout the entire pool. As the rumor went, pool water treated in such a manner would turn bright neon yellow upon contact with urine - in effect, granting everybody present at the pool “pee vision” and instantly shaming the fouler of said pool. The reason I remember the tales of this anti-pee agent was that it significantly affected my pool behavior. Previously, when poolside, there had been three reasons to get in the water: (1) too hot, (2) play keep away, (3) whiz. Attempts to discover which pools had been treated with the anti-pee agent met with little success - these attempts usually included involving the kids of the family who owned the pool, (or janitor or lifeguard, in the case of a public pool) in a conversation about pool-peeing. “So,” I’d begin, in a very casual manner, as to avoid arousing suspicion, “good thing you’ve got that anti-pee agent in the water, eh? That way we know the water is pee-free, eh?” What I was hoping for was for somebody to either confirm the presence of the anti-pee agent, or say something like, “heck no, if somebody peed in this pool we’d have ABSOLUTELY no way of knowing about it.” Unfortunately, nobody responded in either fashion. Usually they just clammed up about pool peeing and displayed a little smile on their face because, whether they had treated their pool or not, they knew they had defeated me. The result was a phase lasting for about two years of my young life that required me to constantly haul my little body out of the pool and hazard my way across the wet slippery concrete to some crazy-ass bathroom somewhere - it felt at times that these repeated bathroom forays were taking months out of my life, but what was I to do? A year and a half in, the development of a litmus-like test for the presence of anti-pee agent in pool water (green for “it’s safe to pee,” red for “Warning! Anti-pee agent present!”) stalled due to my complete ignorance of chemistry principles. However, the litmus test wasn’t all a waste of time, at least it gave me hope. But then I got to thinking… Wait a minute! I thought. In these two years’ time, how likely is it that nobody peed in a pool around me? Answer: not very likely! Anti-pee agent was only a myth, calculated to dissuade whizzers from casting their wares into pool water! My first careful, tentative pool whiz confirmed my theories. After that, I became more brash - you know, making up for lost time and all. Nowadays, with all my maturity and aged cynical wisdom and what not, I’d have a much more straightforward analysis, and one that would have required much less empirical evidence. It’s all about cost-benefit. Take a hotel pool, for instance, even assuming that it costs the hotel nothing to purchase and use an anti-pee agent, what does the hotel gain by identifying when somebody’s peed in the pool? Nothing! In fact, this would probably only cost the hotel, like in lost business and stuff after the hotel acquires of the reputation of having a “pee lagoon” or something of the sort. And having its guests unknowingly swim around in all sorts of pee, that doesn’t cost a hotel anything at all. Until a hotel or gets sued by somebody who was adversely affected by pee-swimming in some way, (and such a law-suit, by the way, would be totally rad, aside from the negative consequences to pool whizzers that would surely follow) hotels have no motivation at all to add anti-pee agent to their pools. Simply put, my dear and gentle reader, do not fear that neon yellow dye. If you are swimming and happen to find yourself taken by the urge to urinate, then by all means, do so in the pool! However, this isn’t to say that, when you do, nobody will know that you are peeing in the pool. There exist a few very clever and astute people with a keen insight into human nature. And if one of these people are present when you pool whiz, they might know, even in the absence of anti-peeing agent. My friend Nik G. won’t swim in hotel pools. “They’re full of pee!” she says. She’s not just speculating. She knows. You see, she’s one of these clever and astute people who can spot somebody whizzing in a pool. Just recently, while we were both poolside, she pointed out a boy squatting by himself, eyes just above water level, in a secluded corner of the pool. He was quietly blowing bubbles out of his mouth and appeared deep in contemplation. Nik’s eyes narrowed with contempt. “You see how they get all quiet like that?” she asked me. “That’s when it happens!” So now, when I am swimming with Nik, and I determine that the body of water could use a little, “warm up” (as I chucklingly remark silently to myself), I splash around and talk loudly about something inconsequential. It’s fine for now but I‘m afraid it won‘t last. It won’t be much longer before Nik G. figures out what I am up to.

Brian 10:49 AM

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House of Noh!

Wednesday, September 15, 2004