The Gym... a collection of Short comical Stories

The grandma wench and the wind machine

Monday- Currently the most popular day to experience any of the following symptoms; Depression, anxiety, anger, bitterness, mood swings, and sleepiness. Also, the most common day of choice to call in sick, or commit suicide. True story. Mondays are already bad enough, without adding any extra hullabaloo to the already melancholy temperament. I pulled up to the gym a couple minutes later then normal, as it was Monday, and I was already suffering from a nasty little bit of moodiness. As I hand the small man at the front desk my membership card, I notice a lurking evil hovering over my shoulders. I turn, only to be face to face with... the wicked witch of the fan! I think to myself at what horribly atrocious timing this was, as If I had arrived just two minutes earlier, I would have already staked my claim on my favorite corner elliptical, without worry that I would be stationed directly in front of the commercial sized wind machine. (otherwise known as a very large and unruly fan) I observe this little spawn of Satan, attempting to race me to the corner so she can be there first, therefore earning the right to turn the fan on. Seeing as this frightfully delightful ray of sunshine is well, 59 to 73 years old, I hasten on ahead of her, leaping over gym bags, old men, water bottles, broken machine parts, and treadmill cords to capture the coveted corner elliptical. Somehow this pirate floozy has managed to maneuver her flabbiness over to the colossal fan, and with a quick flick of a switch, turns it on. As I fail to understand the need to turn my sweat into little mini sweat-sickles, she on the other hand, seems to think this is perfectly acceptable. The worst part is that she insists on shooting death stares at me the entire time she is doing her cardio, as if she is casting a spell on me with her mischievous mind! This happened once before. I was minding my own business, reading "How to talk to a liberal if you must" by Ann Coulter, having a grand old time on my elliptical, when an older lady came up to me and motioned at me to take my headphones out. I roll my eyes, as is a normal and often occurrence for me this early in the morning, and reluctantly remove me music from my ears. I look at her belongings already placed on the machine next to me as I ponder what this 873 yr old could possibly have to say to me. "Do you mind if I turn the enormous fan of death on?" she says. (without the enormous and death part). "Yes I do mind, sorry." I say, managing to muster up an incredibly fake half smile, as I knew this would inevitably end in war. She made a whole bunch of un-recognizable noises, huffed and puffed a lot, and then she began with this... "Oh well I guess I will just have a headache then!" (insert a bunch more mumbling and groaning here.) I shot her a stern, disapproving look, as only a woman as sweet as I can do, and said "I am just SO sorry to hear that (insert sarcasm here), but I don't want to freeze and be blown away! I came to workout and sweat and thats what I plan on doing, If you don't like it, you can move!" Keep in mind that my Italian/Irish temper is at this moment, provoking me to scream utterly inappropriate and mean obscenities at this women. I choose then to not care if she gets a headache, as CLEARLY, my cardio is much more important. She under much protest, continued on for about a half an hour on her machine, glancing over at me wretchedly from time to time. I had won this small battle, but this was only the beginning, for I had created a monster, and she wouldn't be voluntarily going away quietly. Old against young, fit against fat, this is where it all began. Damn.So here we are again, fighting over this stupid fan. I am very annoyed that I have been reduced to kindergarten bickering, but at the same time, am far too stubborn to give in to this nonsense. I will not ever have the desire to be in the midst of a Chicago wind storm while I am trying to workout... It just doesn't make any sense. It amazes me how rude and inconsiderate people can be, especially in this town. My mother taught me to respect my elders, but then again, I didn't obey her very well at all, and if you are going to be rude to me, I just may have to be rude right back. 

The other grandma wench and the wind machine

It seems that I have recently acquired several enemies at my favorite place in the world, also known as the gym. They seem to range from the age of 50 to 1,000 years old, and possess the personalities of cantankerous old shrews. Only I, would be fortunate enough to gain these new adversaries, as it would just be my sort of luck. I am sure that in some way I bring it on myself, but by no means am I taking full blame for the mini-war that has sprung up at this particularly lovely recreation center. As if it isn't torture enough to endure longer then a few minutes on the infamous Stair-master, but to do so with a the fan police on the adjacent machine is just pure agony. One day, a lady who I had seen there a number of times before hobbled up next to me. I remembered her because she wears one of two things only every time I see her; A giant Tomato-red shirt or a giant smurf-blue shirt. This is about the extent of her gym wardrobe. She insists on talking at an ever so obnoxious level, heard even over the loud rap music serenading me through my headphones. She manages to haul her exceedingly hefty fanny up a couple stairs before she changes her mind and staggers back off. It was then that she did the unthinkable! She made her way over to the mountainous fan of death, (approximately the size of a hot-tub,) and squeezing her plump little swollen hands around the back of it, she started the powerful engine, which was pointed directly at my minuscule shorts. As my entire outfit started flapping violently around in the wind, I turned around with a fiery look of vengeance burned into my face. "WOW!" I said. "Thanks for asking If I minded that you turn that on (insert immense sarcasm here), I'm glad you feel like you own this place; that was very, very RUDE of you...!" and with that I pounced off the stairs and unplugged this furious beast of a machine. Just when I was beginning to wonder if I would ever actually see blood boil in my lifetime, I did. Her face turned the color of her hideous tarp-shirt, and she tottered away as quick as she could manage, all the way up to the front desk and proceeded to then..."tell on me". Leave it to a 60 year old to do something that silly. I eventually got my way as they somehow succeeded in moving this horrible storm machine directly behind her, and out of my path. Only a few days later, I found myself in a seemingly familiar situation. The giant smurf of the underworld is back, and with a vengeance. Luckily for me, I am not alone. To my left is my workout partner, a snappy little fellow himself. I smile in the confidence that she will not be getting her way while he was around! She continues on in much the same manner as before, wobbling and fretting about as if her legs were too heavy to carry with her. At last, after she makes her way to the top of the machine, to set her towel (which she won't use) over the rail. To my delight, I realize that I will again be fortunate enough to watch her try and get herself back off the machine. This is a task which is obviously much harder for her then it should be due to the large body parts that get in her way. After this hot-mess spectacle has finally reached her goal; the floor, she darts (slowly, if that makes any sense) over to the airplane propellor machine, and yes, turns it on. I didn't have much of a chance to say anything before my dear sweet workout partner turns around in absolute disgust. "Who turned that fan on!?" He snapped. I smiled and pointed my manicured little finger at her chubby little sausage ones, "SHE DID!" "Its the same *&^@*& that did it the last time!" I threw in a couple more curse words and insults as to be sure my point got across successfully. While being angry and amused at the same time, I watched her un-gracefully make her way over to the front desk, yet again. I saw her waving her hands about in the air as if someone had just pulled her also chubby cats tail, and then in defeat, hung her head and walked a few steps to a new machine. HORRAY! I beam to the high heavens as I realize that she will not win today, or ever if I can help it. I must stay strong, for the future gym rats of PQ depend on it!Today, I have made a mortal enemy, whom I shall swear to loath till the day I die, and every time I am unfortunate enough to be cursed with seeing her evil, rugged little face, I will sneer up my nose in utter disgust at her, for how dare she ruin my workout.                  
 
Sincerely,            
 -Life