I hate my gym. Well, not really. It has little TV sets at every machine, so I can watch Seinfeld or the Yankees game when I'm exercising. So, in that regard, it's fine. And on the weekend in the summer, the place is empty. That's nice too. But on a normal work day, I miss the Montclair YMCA so much.
First things first, the majority of the women there weigh about 12 pounds. And it's twelve pounds of muscle. And none of them look red-faced and sweaty when they exercise the way I do. I hate that.
The men are all in their twenties, look like they spend about 3 hours a day at the gym, and gawk at the 12-pound women. In the summer, the air-conditioning is barely on – I guess to maximize the sweatiness. Excuse me, but I'm not a wrestler and I don't need to make my weight category, so could you stop trying to kill me with heat?
And I'm the only one who pumps my fists in exultation when the Yankees score a run. I'm the only one singing along to my music. I'm the only one laughing at Seinfeld, even though I see other people watching it! Yesterday's Seinfeld was the one where Jerry gets a bad haircut and he can't be in the bachelor auction for Elaine. So, Elaine substitutes Kramer. As Kramer walks on stage, Elaine says, "Kramer has a high school diploma. Errr, equivalency. He's 'self-employed.' He likes fruit. And he just got a haircut. Do I hear… $5? Ladies?" It was hysterical.
The Y was filled with all types of people – old and young, rotund, slender… but mostly rotund. No one was there for more than an hour and a half. It was delightful. In the summer, it was air-conditioned to perfection and everyone always cleaned off the equipment when they were done. Oh, how I miss you, Montclair Y. I hope I'll be back soon.