So, I decided to check out this place, the Beth Dixon Pool, a while back. Heard some chatter about it, you know, a spot to supposedly unwind, get some laps in. My local haunt had shut down for repairs, imagine that, right before summer, so I was looking for options.
Getting there wasn’t too bad, found parking easy enough. But then the fun started. First, you hit the reception. Felt more like trying to get into a high-security facility than a community pool. Forms. So many forms. And the questions! You’d think I was applying for a mortgage, not trying to swim a few lengths.
Then the rules. Oh boy, the rules. There was a laminated sheet, probably twenty points long, stuck to the counter with aging tape. Bold print everywhere. “NO this,” “ABSOLUTELY NO that.” I swear, half the things they banned were just normal pool activities. No jumping, fine, I get that in the shallow end. But no “boisterous play”? What even is that? Are we supposed to meditate in the water?
I finally got my pass, paid the fee – which wasn’t exactly cheap, mind you – and headed to the changing rooms. Look, I’m not expecting a five-star resort, but basic cleanliness? Apparently too much to ask. The floor was sticky, and there was this lingering smell of, well, old damp socks and regret. I changed as fast as I could, trying not to touch too many surfaces.
The pool itself looked okay from a distance. Decent size. But once I got in, it was… cold. Not just refreshing cold, but an “is the heater actually broken?” kind of cold. And crowded. Not with people having fun, mostly just folks grimly ploughing up and down their lanes, trying to avoid eye contact. The atmosphere was just off. Stiff.
I remember one thing particularly vividly. They had this lifeguard, a young lad, perched up on his chair like a hawk. But not watching for safety, oh no. He was watching for rule-breakers. I saw him blow his whistle because someone’s kid accidentally splashed another swimmer. An accident! The kid looked terrified. The parent got a lecture. For a splash!
You know what I think? I think the Beth Dixon Pool started with good intentions. Maybe it was meant to be a real community asset. But somewhere along the line, it just got tangled up in its own red tape. Too many committees, too many people trying to justify their jobs by adding another rule, another procedure. It’s like they forgot the whole point was for people to actually use and enjoy the place.
So, did I go back? Nope. One visit was enough. It’s a shame, really. Could’ve been a great little spot. Instead, it felt like swimming in a rulebook. I ended up just waiting for my old place to reopen. At least there, you could splash a bit without getting a citation.
