Monday, August 12, 2013

More Pool Fun With Count Dracula and Countess Oblivious

Except for running into Loogie Man at Trader Joe's shortly after his, uh, doNAtion to the pool water at the gym last week (see last post), things have been pretty quiet there.  I only see most people once as they do their one-day-a-week workout or they choose a different time and we never cross paths again.  The time I've settled on seems to be a slow one at the pool which is, of course, why I chose it.

Today was no exception. It was PERFECT.

When I walked in, the water was still with not one person in sight.  I had the pick of the lanes.  I chose the double lane (wide enough for two people) because it gives me the best view out the tall windows and as I do my side-stroke laps I can watch the tops of the trees swaying in the wind.  It makes my exercise more meditative. And there I was, meditating away, when I turned to see Count Dracula in my lane, three feet away.

He was older and balding and spoke in a very thick accent - a straight from Transylvania accent.

"May I SHARE your LANE vis YOU?" he inquired through furrowed brows and two very prominent eye teeth (read fangs) with no teeth between to bridge them from one to the other.

"Uh," I replied deftly.  "The whole pool is open and you can take any lane," I offered helpfully. He looked around but didn't move and I got the direct impression he wanted to be close to me.  So I offered to move....and I did.  He looked too motivated as he assessed me and fat people and pregnant women have more blood flowing through their veins.  I was a veritable Thanksgiving dinner.  He looked so disappointed while my liver and I swam away.  He probably had some fava beans and a nice Chianti under his towel.

Then in the locker room, I came out of the shower with my too-small-towel and too-much-acreage only to be confronted by an oblivious woman with her five or six-year-old son by her side.  She was much too engaged in her phone conversation to pay attention to him, but I wasn't.  I was in a TOWEL, and only SORT of.

"Excuse me, but, we are DRESSING and UNDRESSING in here."

"Oh," she replied vacantly. "I'll move over here," which was nowhere near where naked women would not be.

This wasn't a restroom situation where we've all taken our little boys because they were too young to leave alone, outside.  The restroom at least has partitions.  Our gym provides CHILD CARE - 30 feet away.  The little victim of Idiot Woman walked around the locker room singing songs while flanked by perfect strangers in various states of undress around him. I could hear him with his mother around the corner - him singing, her relaying some inane gossip, phone glued to her ear - and I got dressed in a herky-jerky fashion with layers of white towels draped over me thickly and haphazardly as if some demented surgeon were currently performing an operation on me, and I was assisting.

As soon as every article of clothing I owned was slopped back on to me, I marched to the front desk.

"Excuse me, but we have a NOT cool situation in the women's locker room," I announced intensely.  They stared at me wide-eyed as I described the problem.  "Would you let a dad walk in the MEN'S locker room with his six-year-old DAUGHTER in tow?"  The male factor of the three attendants looked horrified.  "Exactly," I replied.  They promised to take care of it.  I think it was the eye-level factor of a child this age that suddenly broke through the purple haze.

I knew what needed to be done.  The mother should have been thrown in the pool with Dracula but no one else came up with that idea so I didn't mention it. I do hate to be the one who always has to point out EVERYTHING.

Ah, the gym.  What a place of respite.  I realize why I go.  It's just SO good for your health.



© Robynn's Ravings 2013


Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Gym Dandy or Why People I Work Out With Are Lucky I Don't Travel With Weapons

This is a ROTTEN way to come back to Blogland. No promised explanation of my absence (trust me, you'd thank me if you knew), no howdy-doo or by-your-leave or other weird saying that really makes no sense.  All I can say is hello and if I don't just drop a Facebook status update in here that I just posted a few minutes ago, I may never blog again.  So, if there's still anyone out here who's watching for a return from the dead, be encouraged. The zombie awakens.  Here's the post:

Sooooo.....I got up this morning at 6 to head to the gym...Hunter with me. Got to the gym, no lock for my locker in my gym bag. Back home. Walking in to procure lock, face planted into the dirt and a bush while tripping over my own garden hose. Borrowed Hannah's lock. Back to gym.

Pool lanes full. Wait...wait.... Get lane, two people try to get me out of it by getting IN my lane. No go. Two chubby girls stand at the pool windows from the gym side and point and laugh at chubby people in the pool. I am included. I stare at them and send thought bombs for their stretched-too-tight seams to split mid squat.

Guy in my shared lane proceeds to cough repeatedly and spit in the pool. Dear Lord. I am not the person who can handle this sort of thing, Mr. Loogies R Us. At 40 laps (I do 50) old ladies (trust me, the obvious that I could be one of them does not miss me), gather in MY lane for THEIR class which doesn't even start for 15 more minutes. I ponder why this is so as I wouldn't dream of getting on an exercise machine someone was already using. Unless it was one of these old ladies.

Out of pool, shower, head to locker as inconspicuously as possible because I have too little towel for too much acreage. Lock won't open with combo daughter gave me. I try ten times. I reverse said combo. No go. Arm is going to sleep from holding towel and other arm is going to sleep from working the lock. All clothes, keys, etc. are in the locker. I contemplate crying and talk myself out of it - aloud - and I'm overheard by someone who probably thinks I'm nuts - I am. I realize I'm going to have to seriously work on the lock while NOT holding a towel. I must get back into my wet suit as I am unwilling to entertain the other option. I'm also contemplating asking a stranger to go out in to the vast gym calling my son's name to see if he remembers a different combo. It seems best to approach strangers while clothed.

I achieve the near impossible of trying to stuff a wet beach ball into a water balloon and I am back in my suit, before an audience. I try the combo a few more times and, magically, it works. It is a possessed lock and needed me to humiliate myself before it would function. Wish granted.

Upshot: I shaved four minutes off my swim time today.

Personal motto I forgot to recite: Calm down and carry on.

Most pleasurable moment of the day: Lying down on my bed post gym, defeated, only to have my dog reach her front feet out, stretch, and claw the skin off my arm.

It's just how we roll around here. I mean, are there OTHER options?



© Robynn's Ravings - 2013