Tales from the Gym- Part the Fourth

Being a scientific minded individual, I decided it would be fun to experiment. I wanted to compare and contrast the amazing experience I had the last trip I made to the gym- the glorious freedom of working out in a virtual ghost town- with one during peak hours.

Okay, that's complete and utter bullshit; even as the words left my head and transferred to the key board, I couldn't bite back a disgusted snort. The truth is, I decided to head to the gym after work; after spending hours slaving away for them dollar bills y'all, I wanted to purify myself with sweat, sore muscles, and the endorphins that would accompany them.

I was in for disappointment.

I arrived at 24 Hour Fitness around 11 pm, and was greeted by a parking lot packed full of cars; every bike rack was occupied, and the ones belonging to the surrounding businesses were as well. "Hmmm," I thought to myself as I looked around for somewhere to lock my bike. "This can't be good."

I eventually found a spot at the movie theater across from the mall, and with a heavy heart, I tromped over the gym and to what would be the most harrowing 72 minutes of this year. Submitted for the approval of The Midnight Society, I call this story: TALES FROM THE GYM!

Stepping into the gym was like diving head first into a swamp. The air was thick, saturated with the foul stench of a hundred unwashed human bodies, each person trying with all their might to get that pump; to burn just one more calorie, to get just one more rep. Even more disturbing, you could taste the sour stench; opening ones mouth for more than a split second was like licking the invisible arm pit of a morbidly obese walrus.

"It's the smell, if there is such a thing..."

And the heat. Weeping gods, it was hot in that building, which I guess is to be expected when it's packed to capacity and nearly everyone is running, lifting, and leaking gross amounts of putrid saltwater  from every pore of their filthy bodies. In case you can't tell, I was just a little repulsed. I felt like I had somehow been transported from Earth to the planet Degobah, which is ridiculous because there are no transporters in Star Wars. Still, I half expected Yoda to be working the front desk, offered zen-like wisdom as each gym goer checked in.

Of course there were no open lockers. I don't know why I should have expected otherwise. I spent my first 15 minutes waiting around for someone to finish up their workout and move the fuck along so I could store my stuff.

And that was just the beginning of the worst aspect of a full gym: The Lines. The Fucking Lines.

Everything was taken or being used. And I do mean EVERYTHING. All the benches were occupied by meat heads. Every machine was being used. And don't get me started on that most sacred of piece of equipment, the squat rack. And around every piece of equipment, every bench being occupied, and every cardio machine in use was a motherfucking line. 

Okay, maybe line isn't the right word. With that many people, space was limited and there obviously wasn't room for folks to stand in lines. It was more like planets orbiting a star; each exercise station was a brilliant glowing ball of luminescent glory, and hovering around each was a clumpy ball of dirt. Some as jovian as the largest of planets, others sad little dwarf rocks regulated to Pluto status in the gym hierarchy. And all eager to get as close to the Sun as possible.

Navigating that mess was insanity made manifest; even Han Solo, who has the biggest balls in the galaxy, would think twice before trying to fly through that mayhem.

"Yeah, fuck that!"

It quickly became apparent that following a set routine wouldn't work; my workout regimen would largely consist of whatever machine or weight I could grab as it became available. Moving around in the murky swampy mess, I became a scavenger, eager for any scrape of meat I could get my paws on. I also found myself developing a great deal of sympathy for the hyenas in the Lion King...

The Circle of Life sucks when you aren't on top.

I was always in a rush, either because I was trying to finish my sets as quickly as possible- a bunch of sweaty apes glowering at you is great motivation for speed- or because I was trying to swoop in and snag a tasty morsel before some bigger, stronger predator got to it first. I was almost trampled twice.

"Move it, you damn cub. Do you even lift, bro?"

The Laws of the Jungle suck ass.

Needless to say, it wasn't what one would call a satisfactory workout; the only sweat I really built up was from the swelter caused by the entire population of Lynnwood working out at the same time in one gym.