Le Gymnatorium

Blah blah- i joined a gym so that i could attend belly dancing class. Today I decided to attend said gym for the first time. Print out my "corporate email," take gym clothes to work, get off subway and walk in the freeeezing cold to the union square branch of gym which is about 3 feet wide and 5 stories tall. Hand "corporate email" to creepy guy (Mulan or something) at the counter to prove that I am a member, get a most important key card in order to access all gyms. "You're all set," he says....

Okay- what the fuck does that mean?? Aren't you going to give me a tour of the gym for ants and escort me to the locker room??? No, nothing? "What do you want me to do now," I say. "Oh- the locker rooms are downstairs and all the classes are on the upper levels."

Great. Thanks a million Mulan. So, through the maze I go to find the stairs which lead to a dungeon. Yes. Apparently lights are not necessary for lots of sweaty men and women all hanging out around lockers which resemble those from 6th grade that no one uses. Okay. Open one of the lockers- put in bag, boots, fur. Where do I change? I have no idea. I decide it's best to go into one of the bathroom stalls which I find by walking in circles at least 6 times and bumping into some woman's ridiculously large ass.

Whilst peeing I start to think about the fact that you should have a lock when you use a locker from 6th grade, lest some woman with a ridiculously large ass steal all of your belongings and leave you in a bathroom stall in your socked feet. I think that I should go to the front desk and buy one. So, I come out of the stall- and attempt to put my boots back on. One of them will not go on my foot, because I'm doing this so quickly that I crush the little heel cup part. Honestly, getting this shoe back on my foot takes at least 10 minutes. At this point I am freakin pissed.

I take all of my belongings back to the front desk and upon seeing no one there to help me, decide to keep walking right out the front door. All the way home I walk, listening to my mom on the phone yammering on about Michelle Obama's yellow dress. Get to my door and basically dump everything out of my bag looking for my keys. "Hold on, Mom." No keys. Seriously don't have them. It's ok because I know how to let myself in the front door with the keypad. I'll just walk up and bang on the door for someone to let me in.

Except that no one is home. Call all 3 roommates, none of them answer. It is so my night. Text them all that I'm locked out thinking that will conjure up some sense of urgency. Nothing. Decide to go downstairs to the bar for a vodka with myself. Finally N calls and tells me she's on the way home. When will this day subside? N and I share a drink, and decide on our plan for the evening.

Yes kids, tonight it'll be chicken McNuggets with a side of AIDS (anyone??) while watching Beauty and the Beast Special Edition DVD. If this isn't a classy Wednesday night, I don't know what is... Shove that in your 6th grade locker.