Fringe Benefits to Being Mentally Challenged

I think my gym has started offering a special discount for the mentally challenged. My suspicion in this matter is fueled by a recent increase of strange people. Not necessarily wear-a-special-helmet, drool-on-the-floor strange, but definitely off kilter.

The first example arrived a few weeks ago. He is a male, possibly in his fifties, possibly Asian, but definitely no more than five feet tall, and sporting the Three Stooges, Moe, hair cut. That alone would make me giggle, but it would not lead me to question his mental cognition. What raised my curiosity was the fact that he always pulls a dolly that carries five plastic containers, all about 4 feet by 2 feet and 1 foot deep. The whole get up is secured by an intricate arrangement of bungee cords.
I always see him maneuvering this wheeled tower, which is much bigger than he is, around the locker room. When I enter the locker room he is often naked and arranging his boxes. He will unstack them all carefully, open the bottom one, take out one washcloth, re-stack them, but then unstack them again to remove a comb from number two. He can repeat this process several times. I often catch myself watching him for a length of time that is totally inappropriate for a room full of naked guys. I often wish I had a camouflaged blind, like the wildlife experts, so I can hide and watch him more closely. Possibly the strangest observation is that, although he will be naked in the locker for hours, I have never seen him out on the gym floor.

The second example I wish to present is also male, possibly in his forties, and although he does not appear challenged, something is askew. This fella will work his way through every nautilus machine, in an exact order. He meticulously adjusts the seat level, consults a small notebook, adjusts the weights, and then will proceed to give it all he's got. Huffing, puffing, straining as if he has been constipated for a year. This will continue for approximately one minute, but the weights NEVER budge. After his one minute is up, he stands, stretches, makes a quick entry into his notebook and then moves to the next machine. Once he has finished the circuit, he will stand in front of the mirror for a spell and talk to himself, pick up his notebook and leave.
I asked one of the trainers about him and he said, "Oh that guy, he comes in four times a day, everyday, and does that exact same routine."

There are many more suspicious people, the lady who dresses like Olivia Newton John from the "Let's Get Physical" video, the obese lady who walks slowly on the treadmill while eating a 1 pound bag of M&Ms, and the dude who keeps trying to talk to me in the locker room naked. "No, I did not watch the O'Reilly factor today. And, I have a very strict policy of NO FOREIGN BALLS WITHING FIVE FEET OF ME, unless I am at work."

I don't know if maybe my gym is advertising at an assisted living facility, the short bus stops right out front, or maybe they are adjusting the membership fees by IQ score. I am concerned about the last one, because when I joined up they asked me some questions, told me I qualified for a discount, and then I had to sign my contract in crayon. Not a good sign.

I just know that it is increasingly difficult to work out properly when the guy on the machine next to me is straining so hard he is either going to shit himself, or his asshole will invert, creating the world's largest hemorrhoid. There is no way I am pushing it back in. I'm off duty.

A Gem From the Gym

Killer gets pumped.

I joined a gym this week. Don't go gettin' all, "good for you!" just yet. I join gyms a lot, it's what I do.

The plan is always the same. Wake up one day all motivated and full of piss and vinegar, go to the nearest gymnasium and ask for the Grand tour. On the tour I look for all my usual signs of good gym/bad gym.

Good Sign: Is there a rowing machine?
I used a rowing machine ONCE at a previous gym about three years ago, and seem to recall enjoying it. I have never used one again, but I like to know it is available in case I decide to take up rowing professionally.

Bad Sign: Sexually confused weightlifters
Are there a lot of testosterone laden dudes "spotting" for each other on bench presses yelling things like, "Come on Dog! One more Dawg!" (this is often followed inexplicably by barking noises) This kind of behavior disturbs me. Pretending to be an Alpha Male does not hide the fact that you are precariously positioned so that your ball sweat is dripping onto another guy's face. Whenever I see this activity I start to laugh and, traditionally, those guys don't like to be laughed at.

Here is my first day gym routine, which has been followed to the letter in at least ten cities.
Arrive at gym, get the tour, spot the rowing machine, fight a snicker as a dude tries to bench press 200 pounds while not, obviously, looking up his buddies short shorts, and enter the paperwork arena.
"Three year contract?"
"Is there a "move away" clause if, for some distant reason, I should need to move. Say in three to six months?"
"Sign me up."
After doing all these daunting exercises in self control, they always ask the same question, "Are you going to work out today?"
"You bet I am."
Then I make the long tortuous journey to the locker room. Why did I sign that paper? I already want to leave. Oh well, I have thirty minutes to burn before Pizza Hut's buffet starts.
SO, once in the locker room, I change, strap on the ipod, and make my way to the elliptical machine. Preferably one not facing the confused weight lifters.

I will set the machine for thirty minutes, but after ten I am bored. I will have almost fallen off twice due to attempting to change the music on my ipod to something more inspiring. I will then justify my leaving with, "I should take it easy the first day. I don't want to pull a hammy." Once free from the gym I will sit in my car for fifteen minutes waiting for Pizza Hut's buffet to start. I'll ride that workout high for near two weeks before guilt railroads me back to the gym.

I don't move around the country every three to six months for my job. I am fleeing an obligation to have balls dangled in my face.