For my lunch break from work, at the Audio Precision office in Beaverton, I take a swim up highway 217. The southbound lane, instead of being a road, is a pool, like an artificial river. I jump in and move to the north, with the current. The water is right up to my neck, and I can just cruise along without much effort, seemingly a little bit faster than the other swimmers, which are becoming more dense as I move north.

Along the way I run into my brother Steve, who is with somebody else, doing the same. We join up and swim together. Where the freeway starts to turn the to west to join with highway 26, the number of swimmers becomes very thick, as tightly as people want to pack, forming a big traffic jam. We decide to get out and have some lunch.

Just off an off-ramp there is a subway, so we go in there, where there is also a big line. When we get to the front, they ask us to take off these full-body-covering white suits that we're wearing to keep out clothes dry while swimming, I think because they make us look like Klansmen. We unzip the front and pull the top part down to about the waist, so we look half like normal people, and that seems to be sufficient.