Toweled Texters, and Other New Characters

"So there I was, post-workout in the locker room, texting away while wearing nothing but a towel..."

This type of character is the kind of person comedians like Lewis Black would make a living out of mocking. Hell, a year ago, I would have cracked more than a few jokes myself. The perpetrator in the following quote is violating two of the main rules for gym etiquette, at least in terms of the standards I hold dear.

1. Thou shalt not spend more than 60 seconds engaging in text messages whilst in a public setting.
2. Thou shalt do everything possible to reduce the amount of time spent nude or near nude in a public locker room.

So who was this vile offender, so callous in the face of decency? Yep, he'd got two thumbs and is pointing at his own chest tight now.

It was me. Oh, the shame.

It seems in the span of less than a year, I've become one of the characters I once blogged against. Back in October, I wrote about the Five People You meet at the Gym. For those of you who need a refresher, here's the link back to that post.

http://weddingfast.blogspot.com/2009/10/five-people-you-meet-at-gym.html

Now, I'd like to introduce you to some new characters who I've encountered, and sad as it is, appear to have become. This time, I'm going to go into a little more detail about each, with some personal anecdotes mixed in for good measure...

1. The World Cup Obsessive

This character doesn't get to come out very often, typically only once every few years during the World Cup, the Olympics, or any other brief period when America joins the rest of the world in soccer obsession. Lately, the WCOs have been out in force, and nowhere are they more charged up than at the gym. The morning locker room appears to be their favorite stomping ground, a place they can speak ad nauseum about the merits of "real football," the beauty and grace of Lionel Messi's skills, and wonder aloud about whether the Americans are for real. Most of the WCOs aren't particularly interested in Team USA; they're more concerned about how countries of their heritage, especially Italy or England, are faring.

Personally, I enjoy soccer. I grew up in Middletown, a city with a large Italian population and where all kids are weened in youth soccer leagues. I like to play, and had a few seasons where I scored an occasional goal. However, like most overweight kids, coaches were reluctant to put me up front or in the midfield. Chubby translates into fullback, coaches seem to think, and despite my great desire to play as striker and one season when I racked up nine goals, most of the time I was relegated to defense. By middle school, my interest in playing soccer had waned, but i still enjoy watching from time to time. I root for the USA, the English, and the Dutch, and have been known to absolutely dominate FIFA video games, playing as Chelsea out of the English Premier League.

But I am far from obsessive. I get excited for the Cup, and was as delighted as anyone when Landon Donovan sent the USA into the knockout round. I also enjoyed a bit of schadenfraude at failure of the Italians and the French, especially given the superior attitudes of many of the kids I played with as a youth. However, in any locker room right now, you will find plenty of people who don't know where the line is drawn, and insist that soccer will become one of the major professional sports once the Cup is through.

One man especially comes to mind. About a week ago, Greece was set to play Argentina in group play. Fans know that the Greeks had a remote chance to beat the powerful Argentines, about as remote as your typical you know what in a hurricane, or of Greece rising from economic ruin to once again become the center of the world. However, on this particular morning, one overzealous Greece fan was more than confident that his squad could knock off the favorites. So confident, in fact, that ran from bench to bench, yelling "Go Greece!" as if seized by the spirit of Zorba himself.

He's not alone in his obsession. Others I know have been sporting jerseys at the gym, from Portugal to Brazil. It's a bit amusing to see, but sad to think how these folks will have their spirits dashed once the Cup ends and soccer, again, becomes an afterthought until the next Cup is played.

2. The Overdressed Exerciser

Here is an example of another person I've been at one time or another. This person usually overdresses by accident. Some article of clothing is forgotten when packing a gym bag, typically something minor. In my case, it's usually socks. I will remember the shorts, the tee shirt, and the sneakers, but blank about packing athletic socks. The result is either subtle or hilarious. If the work outfit called for black socks, they can be carefully tucked down to give the appearance that they are just block cotton socks, and not the dress variety. Far less subtle, and all the more hilarious, are when the mistake comes when the wearer has chosen brown socks, especially in my case, horizontally striped brown socks in multiple shades. There's no passing them off as anything but dress socks in that situation, and you either live with the public shaming, or you head home without a workout.

Today, however, I saw something very strange. A Musclehead was lifting a 75-pound dumbell with one hand, jumping from a squat position to raise the weight above his head. I might not have noticed if not for the grunting, but once I saw this guy, I was highly amused. While he was wearing shorts and a muscleshirt, his feet were adorned with loafers. Not sneakers of any type, but ridiculous khaki loafers that looked straight out of a JCrew catalog. Perhaps this fellow was a yachter of some kind and was headed for the marina following his workout. Unfortunately for him, he found himself grunting while wearing stupid shoes in front of a blogger in search of material.


3. The Underdresser

She's the exact opposite of the Overdresser. While some wear clothes more appropriate for the office than the gym, the Underdresser has a different characteristic. She is barely dressed at all, especially during the summer, when wearing a shirt over a sports bra is just too damn hot and constricting. She's not dressed for the nightclub, but rather the beach, and to hell with society's views on decency.


Three Underdressers come immediately to mind. The first is a middle-aged woman who comes to work out wearing just a bra and tight shorts. She has a very large belly jewel that she apparently is quite proud to display, and can usually be found doing crunches to emphasize the fact that 40 is just a number.


The other two frequent my gym in Wethersfield. One was a teenybopper of sorts, maybe early 20s at the oldest. She wore a bright pink bra, which isn't unusual, but appeared to be wearing string as a shirt. Then, there's the gothish girl covered from head to toe in tattoos, including one that appears to run from her hip across her stomach and up to her neck.


My opinions of tattoos has changed through the years. I no longer consider them crazy or silly, but I still wouldn't get one, as I fear what might happen as skin gets older and more elastic. At some point, that adorable little dolphin appearing to jump from a girl's belly button can take on the appearance of the baby alien emerging from the guy's stomach. Every time I see this Underdresser, so proud of her tattoos, I wonder if she's considered the long term. Then I remember that not everyone is as anal retentive as I am.


4. The Right-Wing Nudists


These are quite possibly my favorite new characters. They are roughly 70 to 80 years old, fiercely conservative, and like to gather in the early morning locker room to discuss everything Republican. They diss Obama, curse Blumenthal, discuss hunting at length (complete with graphic descriptions of animals they've killed), and chat with great passion about retaking America through the guidance of Glenn Beck.

And, they do all this while being stark naked. Conservatism doesn't extend to locker room dress code. Hell, when it comes to nudity, these fellas are as liberal as they come!

These folks do an amazing amount of activities in the buff: shaving, sitting and talking, looking in the mirror for new and undiscovered moles, and talking about Sarah Palin. As an unabashed Progressive, their topics of conversation makes my skin crawl, but there's no way I'll express my disapproval. There's a time and place for political discourse, and more importantly, there's a dress code (namely, clothes).


I will continue to seek out interesting characters. If nothing else, they make getting up early to work out all the more entertaining.