Swim class

Imagine if instead of taking the bus or train or taxis, everyone just swam everywhere. That's what it's supposedly like in Venice. Swim class is fun, fun, fun. Soon, I'll be able to swim to New Jersey, across the Hudson River, to Grand-ma and Grand-pas house, and they have a pool.

The pool at Columbia's Teacher's College is a medieval Turkish bath chock full of Chlorine with temperatures baking up to 165 degrees leaving one crushed by the air before his nose. The parents are forced to stand in the steamy balcony to look down on their kids fighting for their lives. I imagined myself jumping off the balcony into the saturated pool to save my Emma or dropping my camera, I used for these photos, on the lifeguard's head.

There's nothing better than ice-cream on a stick after swim class.