That pool, and more specifically its water, was probably exposed to every disease known to man at some point. Kind of small yet pretty deep in places, it became the spot where I finally relinquished my irrational fear of water.
For reasons that are not entirely clear to me as I write this, my youngest sister, cousin, and I decided to walk over there from our house without our shoes. I think we were probably afraid of some scruffy kid wandering off with them while we were swimming, if thrashing around amidst a swirl of bodies could be called that.
Walking "uphill," or any sort of walking in grassy or dirt sections wasn't the bad part. It was the cement that we couldn't stand on. The temperature was no less than 102, and as I held my sister's arm, I pretty nearly floated in the air to avoid having my skin singed. We must have been quite the spectacle, stumbling, bumbling, screaming and cursing our way to the water's edge. "Alright," I said once I finally slid below that writhing mass of humanity, "I'm not getting back out of here!"
Of course I did have to get out eventually. We made the same ridiculous bounce step all the way back home, a good 12 to 15-minute walk. By the time we crashed through the door, we were all nearly in tears. "Lord, what is wrong with my children," was all my mom could say before bursting into paroxysms of laughter.
After that, we acquired sandals that could easily be packaged in someone's bag, and gave them to the pathetic soul who was too afraid to venture into those murky depths. One scalding was quite enough, thank you very much.