Let me tell you a little story -- happened a few days ago:
After a "spring break" week in San Diego (with two 25-yo hot chix, lol), I needed a serious "catch-up" day at the gym -- a full-body workout, lasting nearly 3 hours. After all my upper-body compound work, it's time to hit my legs. Well, my gym has 3 leg press machines, lined up in a row. The one on the far right is being used by this old Asian guy I see there all the time. (Amazing dude -- at least 60, loads 6 or 7 plates per side, for some decent partial reps. Always smiling, but never talks to anyone -- I think he may be Buddhist, or just doesn't speak English.) Anyway, I load up the machine on the far left, leaving the one in the middle unoccupied.
So me and Buddha are working legs. Between sets, he does stretches, maybe 5' from his machine. And I alternate between my leg presses and calf raises (on a machine right next to my leg press -- also approx. 5' away). All is going well, until this girl (she's maybe the 4th best-looking girl in the gym at the time, so let's call her Einstein) decides she needs to do leg presses too. Buddha happens to be stretching at this moment, and I'm doing calf raises, so we're both away (but only 5') from our leg press machines. Einstein goes to the empty machine between us, and proceeds to remove a plate from Buddha's machine and puts it on hers. Then she saunters over to the other side, removes a plate from my machine and, yes, slides it on hers. And, of course, there's maybe 10 plates on the rack of her own damn machine, which she chooses not to use.
Buddha and I just look at each other, astounded. Einstein's rocking an i-Pod (of course), so maybe she didn't notice us? Whatever. We both give her a dirty look (which she also doesn't notice), reload a plate on each of our respective machines, and finish our presses. But the saga continues...
I then proceed to the other leg machines to do my alternating leg extensions/hammy curls. I spend a couple minutes adjusting one of the two leg extension machines, getting it dialed in perfect. (You can see where this is heading, huh?) I knock off a set of extensions, and go over to the leg curl machine for a set (about 50' away from the extensions). When I return, I see Einstein screwing around with my leg extension machine, still rocking the i-Pod (I'm guessing Kelly Clarkson). I take a deep breath, start to adjust the other machine to my liking, when I hear: "Excuse me -- I don't like this machine." Yes, my worst fear is confirmed -- it speaks.
I'm actually starting to get a little pissed off, and snap back, "Then don't use it." Einstein (thinking I'm joking) giggles, "Will you help me? I can't figure out how to change the weights." (Instead of the usual pin, this is a newer machine with the little levers, which Einstein can't quite master.) "I only like that one," she whines, pointing at the second machine. The one I'm currently trying to adjust. The one she could have taken in the first place. The one I considered "accidentally" knocking over onto her frail little body. (I wonder if she'd die...)
For the first time (maybe ever), she has a moment of perception, and senses that I may be upset. "Did I do something wrong?"
I just look at her, more incredulous than upset, by this point. Is this a weird dream? I summon the calming vision of my friend Buddha to my mind, channeling all the peaceful and tolerant humanity he stands for.
"No, honey -- it's OK. I'm just a little on edge today."
"Oh," she chuckles, "I don't like this exercise anyway. See you around." And she meanders away...
But there's one more little chapter to this story. (I'm sure you're all thrilled, lol.) Earlier in my workout, I had noticed this weird guy (20-something, balding, with his remaining hair in a goofy pompadour) wearing the fruitiest outfit -- matching, designer orange shirt and shorts. The shirt was sleeveless, but this dude had nothing to show off. And he was wearing some expensive, gold shades on top of his head. (Maybe to hide that beach he calls a forehead -- I dunno.) And then I overheard him speak. Total, obvious lisp. So then I understood (to the best of my blatantly old-school ability) -- the dude was gay. Let's call him Liberace. (You youngsters may have to Wiki that one, lol.)
Well, to (finally) put this epic tale to rest, I had totally forgotten about Liberace by the time I scared Einstein away from the leg extension machines. But, as I watched her little heinie stroll away, I noticed Liberace approach her. Their paths met, they embraced, and they started making out. Right in the middle of the gym. The young dumb chick and the bald gay guy. One of the most surreal moments of my life.
I may have to switch gyms...