Two pictures adorn the entrance of my local swimming pool's changing rooms:  A smiling, humanish male figure wearing short swimming trunks and, standing next to him, another male figure wearing both a frown and below-the-knee swimming trunks.  There's a giant "OUI" plastered on the first man's chest and an equally bold "NON" on his friend's chest, but even without a translation, I'm pretty sure that most men who walk into the changing rooms get the picture: Short Shorts (Translation: Speedos) = Go, Boardshorts = No Go.  I'm not much of a swimmer, so I may not be aware that this short-swimming-trunk business may be protocol in swimming pools everywhere.  But protocol or no protocol, both pictures served as exemplary instances of The Great Male Speedo Divide between America and Europe.   

In America, male Speedos are for swim teams and bad jokes, and most of the men I know wouldn't be caught dead wearing them unless they found themselves on the losing side of a bet or--for a few of the ballsier ones--on a beach in Southern France.  In contrast, when in Europe (or in Geneva, at least), Speedos seem to have monopolized the male swimwear market.  And I'm not just talking about your standard, itty-bitty-and-barely-covering-it-all kind (although they're still going strong); in addition to the barely-there model, it seems that European men also favor the boxer-brief kind of Speedo--kind of like a shorter, tighter Lycra version of the Spandex shorts we were required to wear during high-school volleyball matches.  Not that I'm taking detailed notes or anything. 

I've been told that sanitation is the reason that boardshorts are swimming pool no-nos.  You know, all those germs getting caught up in meters and meters of fabric (or something like that).  But personally, I think that the whole pro-Speedo argument has more to do with vanity.  Or culture.  Or, as the name implies, with speed.  Or, at least at my swimming pool, with small animals. 

Let me explain: once you make it past the prison-cell-like changing rooms that require acrobatic moves to close and open, and after you've gone through the antibacterial foot-spray station (so maybe they weren't lying about that sanitation argument), and after you finally reach the pot 'o liquid gold--the swimming pool itself--you're greeted by another series of pictures and captions to decipher. 

Folding real-estate-looking signs sit at the end of each swimming lane indicating who is and is not permitted to swim in that particular lane.  Most lane signs are picture-free, but all the lanes marked "PUBLIC" are accompanied by either a picture of a red rabbit or a yellow turtle.  I guess they figure that the public can use all the help it can get (I'll admit: it took me a few visits to actually figure out the system even with the aid of pictures.).  Most people probably put two and two together, do a quick self-assessment of their speed, hop--or crawl--into the appropriate lane, and swim away.  And while there's no rocket science or time trials involved in this self-selection process, I know (from personal experience) that there are some people who are willing to do whatever it takes to keep up with the freestyle-stroking rabbits.  And here's where, for men at least, Mr. Speedo beats Mr. Boardshorts any day.  The only question is: if every male is wearing a Speedo, then where does the competetive advantage lay?  I suppose there's something to be said for actual swimming skill, but where would be the fun in that kind of rationale?