Feb. 10th, 2009

The Golds on Market Street is one of the least contentious gyms I've ever been in, presumably because gay men are too busy checking each other out to throw territorial fits. I've been going there for four months and never encountered a real jerk. Until today!

It's 5 o'clock and I've finished my regular lifting, so I wait ten minutes for a treadmill to open up. Two people in front of me get one, then there's long, long wait. Meanwhile, two or three people are waiting behind me -- I'm the head of the line. I'm busy willing the zaftig lady in black to stop her 2 mph walk already, when three of the treadmills in a row die -- their users are puzzled and stand around for a few seconds trying to figure out what went wrong. Well, it happens I saw the same thing happen last week -- those three are on the same breaker.

When the frustrated users start coming my way, I tell them about that. Meanwhile, behind me someone says "are you going to move or what? there's one open!" I turn around -- it's a well-muscled but short Asian guy. I tell him the breaker's out and they aren't working. He says, "you don't have to shout!" I tell him I have to talk loudly or he won't understand me (I talk quietly normally and most people can't hear me.) He says, "well, don't get in my face..." Hmm, we're about to have a bar brawl. I brilliantly replied, "well, don't get in *my* face," and turned away.

I sincerely don't understand how anyone could interpret what I said as "getting in [their] face."

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drscott

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