I started working out again about 4 & 1/2 months ago, for a couple of reasons. One, I was getting too damn fat. Two, I couldn't do more than 12 pushups. Three, I felt like crap. At first I worked out in the afternoons at lunch, then over the Summer I switched to mornings.
I have always been a morning person. I like being up early, I like the way the air smells, and if I'm going to be productive in any sort of way, I need to get my ass moving in the AM. This particular incident happened in the morning.
I work out at the New York Sports Clubs, which was chosen because it was the least expensive club with a shower facility that did not skeve me out. I have issues, actually I have a subscribtion, but that's not the point of this incident, which happened at a New York Sports Club.
Now, I work out near home in Long Island, usually in Oceanside, or near work, at 73rd Street, across from the Dakota. That club is particularly well maintained, with a diligent cleaning staff, and though the trainers are not particularly friendly, and the people going to the gym are a bit snobbish, the clean showers win out. True the club over on Broadway near H&H bagels has a better group of trainers and people working out, but the incident did not happen there, and the multiple floors are a pain in the ass. The incident happened at 73rd Street, between Columbus & CPW.
When I work out I usually sweat, because I ask you, what is the point if you don't? So on the days that I do cardio, I sweat alot, when I lift, I sweat a little, but still I want to wash that off me and feel clean and beautiful. Well, as beautiful as a guy like me can feel, which isn't much, but I take what I can get. In order to shower I get naked, then I get in the shower, wash off, luxuriate for a few seconds because we should all take time to stop and smell the flowers, walk out of the shower, towel off and get dressed. The incident happed as I was naked, and toweling off in the locker room at the NYSC on 73rd Street between CPW & Columbus at approximately 7am.
The guy on the bench next to me has his breakfast spread out, and is eating his little bram muffin and sipping his coffee in the locker room. On a bench. A bench, I might add, where an old guy rests his balls every day at approximatley 7:15am. Old guy balls, the kind that hang really low, not to mention old guy ass, which in my opinion is something you want to avoid on your eating surface.
I suppose I was raised in a strange way. I don't eat where I shit. Or where old guys rest thier balls. Sweaty old guy balls that just came out of a steam room, every day at about 7:15am. I don't eat in a bathroom, and to me, the locker room is really just a large communal bathroom that people share to get the sweat and grime off their bodies, not, I repeat, not a place to eat. So this guy is eating, on the sweaty ball bench, and I am getting sick to my stomach, I mean repulsed.
And he sees me looking at him, and by the way I am naked, and mad, and if you know me you probably are thinking right about now that you really wouldn't want to be near me while I am naked and wet and disgusted, and getting aggravated because this guy must have been raised in a place where it was ok to eat off of sweaty ball resting benches, and I don't know what to say.
Something about my glaring as I dressed must have bothered this guy, because he gathered up his little picnic and walked out. Not a minute later the old guy came out of the steam room, and said good morning. So I said good morning back.
He looks around, sits on the bech, balls first and says, "Tommy, I'm glad that guy left before I sat on his muffin!", and I just started laughing. I would have paid too see that.
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