Wednesday, January 19, 2005

A scene from the gym

My trainer is a funny guy - lots of goofing around and word play and silly stuff. It's nice - distracts me from the unpleasantness of finding yourself in the gym for the fourth morning in a row when you really just wanted to sleep until noon.

Trainerguy likes to issue sort of ironically-toned encouragement. "Who wants to do five more? YOU want to do five more! That's right!" He makes me pose in various bodybuilder flexes. He tells me bad jokes. All very silly, and all lots of fun.

Earlier this week, we had just finished a jump-roping session in the basketball court and were heading towards the leg press machine. Sometimes he has me do this with both legs, and sometimes to make it harder, I do it one leg at a time.

Me: So what are we doing?
Trainer: Two legged.
Me: Okay.
Trainer: (loudly) Who's got two legs? YOU'VE got two legs! Yes
you do!

Me: (laugh)

This is followed by a sudden, dead silence. When I look up, Ben has a very strange look on his face. I turn around and note that there is, in fact, a one-legged man working out just behind us. What're the chances?

Just goes to show that just about any time you consider saying something stupid, figuring you're safe because the chances must be something like a million-to-one of someone overhearing you who'd be bothered, you had just better not.

Because when you turn around, that one-in-a-million person will be RIGHT there.

"Um, one ticket to hell please," TrainerGuy concluded.


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