i’m not gonna lie…
…you almost got the bit that’ a eighteen years AND A DAY old, ’cause it was pretty funny. but i’ll stay true to form here for the title of the vintage bit alone:
07/17/2002: “my ass is the center of the universe”
THIS title needs explaining REAL quick, doesn’t it? (for those who feel it doesn’t, use the email link to drop me a line, k?). the story behind THIS one can be summed up VERY easily…don’t try and get melodramatic with me. it’s not fun. it’s not cool. and if you’re doing it for “show” purposes, you will lose. badly. don’t even TRY it. word to the wise.
learn from world gym’s mistakes. (now gold’s gym, but never mind that now…)
see, world gym (like gold’s gym, and pretty much EVERY corporate anything) has their own rules about pretty much everything; including a dress code. now, while i agree that people shouldn’t be in there in a clown outfit, or a business suit, or whatever, i feel shorts and a t-shirt should be acceptable. and i don’t know too many people who would disagree with me on that.
since my world (work-wise…and now that i think about it, every-wise) is a bit more rock and roll than corporate, and i typically have to run around in the hot texas sun (when we can see the sun and aren’t stuck in our new found “rainy season”) i tend to wear jean shorts to work. swap a t-shirt, wife-beater, what have you into the mix and you’re ready for the gym, right? especially at the downtown location where they began renovations on the men’s locker room on FEBRUARY 5th and had signs up that it would be completed within a month or so. apparently “…or so” is what makes it go the same pace as my home improvements, except i never put up a time limit sign and mine doesn’t inconvenience a shit-load of people or ruin a major gay social area…despite the rumors of what goes on at my annual birthday bar-b-Q’s (i am SO kidding).
the point being, changing there is now a major pain in the ass (pardon the pun) and so typically what you wear in is what you work out in…in my case, denim shorts and a sleeveless shirt. all good in my eyes. not so much in the eyes of one of world gym’s “assistant managers”.
i walked in the door and do the same bit everyone else does….start spouting your membership number as you round the corner, and you’re done with them before you hit the little stairway that takes you up into the first weight room. you never break stride. except this new, gung-ho, former high school jock-looking son of a bitch stops me…
“sir….what are those?”, he says, pointing at my shorts. i think he MUST be kidding, so oddly enough, i get a bit sarcastic in my response…
“they’re shorts, um…*i look at his name tag*…jason. you know; pants with little legs?”
“no sir,” he replies, with almost military-like precision, “they’re jeans…and jeans are not proper work-out attire. i can’t let you in…”
“first off, if they were jeans, you wouldn’t be able to see my calves. but you CAN, because they’re SHORTS. it’s not like they’re capri pants or something (YES, i’m straight..but i still know what capri pants are. sue me). and second, what the hell do you MEAN you can’t ‘let me in’? i PAY for this membership monthly. i’m in shorts. i wanna workout. what’s the FUCKING problem?”
“the problem is, SIR (said in the most sarcastic tone) that blue jeans, regardless of LENGTH (he still wouldn’t call them shorts) are not proper workout attire. now if you would like to BUY some more appropriate attire, we DO have some for sale…”, he says, gesturing at the “world gym apparel” rack in the lobby.
“okay, i’m gonna pretend you didn’t EVEN try to pimp out y’all’s clothing on me, ’cause that will get this even uglier than it already is. but i’m in shorts. they’re nice, they’re clean. they have no rivets or snaps or anything so it’s not like they can damage the equipment…they’re SHORTS. just like EVERYBODY else is wearing, they just happen to be made of denim. you guys CHARGE me to workout, so i’m GOING to work out. have a good one.”
and i start up the steps into the weight room.
the motherfucker stepped IN FRONT OF ME.
“SIR…(i’ll be damned…the tone CAN get more sarcastic) RULES are RULES. without them society as we know it would crumble and anarchy would ensue…”
i was blown away that he would take it that far. make that big a show of it. and more impressively, use the word “ensue” in a sentence properly. but i wasn’t so impressed i was gonna turn around. oh HELL no. he was breaking my melodramatic rule. and he was just doing it for show, since it was about 5:15 in the evening, and a line of just-off-work (gay) exec types was forming behind me. the next thing that came out of my mouth endeared me to the regulars of this gym for all eternity.
“so, what you’re saying is, that if you allow me to wear DENIM (the cloth of satan) into your hallowed halls, and disobey this “rule”, that it is the end of the world as we know it?”
(and i feel fine….shut up….you were thinking it….and now i’ve got yet ANOTHER song stuck in your head)
“EXACTLY!!!”, he replied, happy i finally “got it”.
“which would then mean my ASS is the center of the universe?!?!?”
THAT he wasn’t expecting. that blew him out of the water. and got a round of applause from the homo-minions behind me (understand this isn’t meant in some sort of demeaning way; but the membership at the gym is predominantly gay men).
at this point, he stepped out of my motherfucking way and i walked in to work out. oddly enough, i never saw this guy there (or at any other gym in austin) again. i think i may have scarred him for life.
Replies: 1 Comment
You GO girl!
more red than dead said @ 07/17/2002 05:45 PM GMT