Midway through day one of our beach lounging extravaganza, we broke from the sand and wandered up to the cafe on the other side of the dune for some grub and a fancy adult beverage. Glancing around the pool the bordered the café we observed and discussed the differences between those who come to the beach to sit by the pool vs those who come to the beach to sit on the beach. Then we noticed that there was yellow caution tape strung between the handles that bracket the stairs to the pool and that there was an employee standing guard in the blazing sun to oversee the lack of activity – and ensure it stayed that way.
We formulated our theories about something having gone a piss in the pool, which was confirmed by our waiter, to whom it seemed routine. Ew. As we enjoyed our meal and speculated about what kind of punishment the offending bladder may have received (lifetime ban from the hotel? Toilet seat around the neck for the duration? Flogging with a dirty diaper?), another employee walked by with a parrot on his shoulder.
The Mc was disappointed when he said “I wonder why he doesn’t’ just fly off” and I had to break it to him that the poor feathered friend had probably had his wings clipped so he couldn’t if he wanted to. Regrettably, my camera was in our bag on the beach and unavailable for documenting the moment.
We defined his world. “Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Pablo the Piss Parrot. He’ll help you forget that you aren’t allowed in the pool for another thirty minutes while the water recirculates. Look at his pretty colors. Yes, that’s it, touch my parrot.”
This is the equivalent of “look over there – it’s Oprah Winfrey laying the smackdown on Starr Jones!” while you steal a French fry or the more practical “oooh something sparkly…look” to disengage from a conversation.
Silly and simple a tactic as this might have been, it worked on the masses. They even seemed to forget once the tape was removed and they leapt back in the water that they were swimming in urine.
Maybe I should get one of these for the office.