In one episode Paul Buchman joined a gym. For Paul, his time at the gym wasn't just an opportunity to buff up but an escape from his otherwise busy schedule. In fact, he wore dark sunglasses in order to preserve his anonymity and add an air of mystery.
Much like Paul I like to go to the gym to exercise and yes, to escape. But for me, wearing sunglasses indoors is a tad impractical and there's little I could do to add an air of mystery. But I do wear headphones and listen to music on my iPhone to aid in motivation and isolation. Sadly, some folks just can't take a hint.
There's Ned, the 62 year old former/current stoner. He still wears his graying hear in a ponytail (actually I wish I still had enough hair to do that) and walks around with a toothpick dangling from the right corner of his mouth. He's 6' 4" but probably only weighs 135 pounds. He's constantly updating me on his prowess and progress. As if i care that he can now curl 10 pounds instead of the 5 pounds he did just last week He always wants to talk to me. As if that weren't bad enough, he's deaf in one ear and can't hear himself talk. Sadly, neither can anyone else as he's a "low talker". A boring two minute conversion turns into a 15 minute snoozathon.
Wait, there's more. They say there's nothing worse than an ex smoker. Yes there is: an ex fatty. And because I'm a pound or two over my ideal weight (ha ha) they love to share their tofu and sprout recipes and regale me with tales of their weight loss. I'll admit, when a really hot looking woman wishes to share her weight loss success story I'm happy to listen. The first time that happens I'll let you know. Sadly, it is the porkers who are down to a svelte 325 pounds who feel the need to share.
But the absolute worst ones are the Amway types. They've lost their once great careers but things are looking up because they're selling vitamins or urinal cakes via the Amway model. And now that they've been suckered (I mean successful) they want to suck me in as well to share in the misery (and presumably the "profits").
Just when I was sure it couldn't get any worse, it did. This morning I was chugging along on the elliptical when I spied an old man with a cane and a yamika huffing and puffing it up the stairs. This guy was old enough to be Moses' grandson.
Anyway . . . I'm doing my thing while wearing a towel draped over my head and listening to the Allman Brothers' Les Brers In A Minor. I'm sure it was pretty obvious to anyone, except Moses' grandson, that I was deep into song and exercise. It should have been equally obvious that I wasn't in a talkative mood. This didn't stop our friend.
He began waving his bony hand in my face to get my attention. I tried to ignore him but he wouldn't stop waving and I thought that maybe, just maybe, he had some trenchant observation to make. Boy was I disappointed.
"You look like a monk."
I was about to remind him that monks often took vows of silence so that they could contemplate great theological questions. Instead, I realized he was still trying to say something.
Smiling a smile that did little ameliorate the disparaging remark that he was about to deliver, he said:
"No, I mean you look like a Muslim!"
Only the fact that he probably would have died of a heart attack prevented me from responding by saying:
"Allahu Akbar!"
Obviously the headphones haven't detered these busy bodies. Neither has profuse sweating and the lack of deoderant. Maybe I do need the sunglasses. And a big sign that says FUCK OFF!!!!
