Setting: fitness room at my hotel, roughly the size of a large bathroom, consisting of three pieces of equipment: a bicycle, a treadmill, and an elliptical machine.
I am roughly 15 minutes into my elliptical magic when I glance into the mirror and see him behind me.
He approaches the treadmill sipping his drink.
"You can change the channel," I offer.
"It's ok, I'm good," he grins like the Cheshire cat.
He sets his drink down. I notice it is a can of Budweiser - not Bud Light, as one might expect in a gym, but full-on Budweiser.
I take in his ensemble. Black, baggy cargo-ish pants and an oversized shirt. His head is shaved, early 20s, rough around the edges.
He pulls something out of his pocket. Naturally, it's a pack of cigarettes. For a brief moment I think it is a very real possibility that this man is about to smoke a cigarette while walking on the treadmill. The very absurdity of it fills me with glee. Sadly, he takes one cig out, then places it back into the pack, between the carton and the plastic, as if he, too, has realized the absurdity of what he had been about to do.
He gets on the treadmill. Within 15 seconds he is running at top speed. He is running so fast that he has to hold on to the treadmill bar. If he does not hold on, he will surely be catapulted backward into the bicycle. I stifle giggles and avoid looking over as much as possible, for if I take in the entire picture, there will be no holding back. Mentally I make notes for this blog entry.
After about 4 minutes, he stops. He coughs. "Heh," I think to myself, "shouldn't smoke all those cigarettes before getting on the treadmill." He coughs more. He continues coughing for a full 45 seconds (I timed it with my elliptical).
He saunters over to his can of Bud. He looks up at me with eyes set to impress, "Yesterday I did a hundred."
? . . . ?
"A hundred what?" I ask, dying to know what in the hell he did a hundred of.
"A hundred of that." He points to the treadmill where he just almost died.
Well then, that settles it.
Then he leaves. And I am left there wondering...so many things.
6 comments:
Well, YEAH, a hundred! It's all perfectly clear.
What time of day was this? I'm going to assume that this guy was d-runk and thought he would come hit on (if you can call it that) the cute girl on the elliptical machine?!
Hotel? Where you at, girl?
And see, if I hadn't called you and delayed your work out a bit, you might have missed him entirely and only had your own exercise to concentrate on, which inevitably makes it end sooner!
Hope you enjoy the rest of your conference/training and have a great weekend!
hey, yeah, that story's really funny.... quick question: how many legs did Masala have when you dropped him off last week? I can't remember. No big deal. If it was more than three, give me a call...
Only in North Carolina, the home of big tobacco, will you see a man with a beer and pack of smokes in a gym. That is just priceless!
And Rich, what are you talking about? I've got Masala with me? Don't I? If not, whose dog DO I have?
(Just kidding, Niki. Your three-legged dog is still with Rich.)
Rich,
Both of my dogs have three legs so you should be good.
(You are an excellent doggie sitter - Maggie and Lily were so happy after you kept them!)
It was about 6pm - barely into happy hour. I had seen him there the day before, confused on the bicycle, but I dunno what the hell is up with him. He creeps me out.
As for Masala...I have no words. Except this - I had a voicemail yesterday from the Pet Poison Control Hotline asking me how everything turned out. Even people who can't see him know he's the cutest puppy in the world and are concerned.
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