Weekend Sandwich, Part I: Attack of the Nudists

Naked old people at the gym and sobering news from the doctor: just another episode in this funny thing I call “life.”

NOTE: I had meant for this to be a single post, but after noticing both the length and the diametrically opposite moods I thought it would be best to split it in two. I’ll post the link to the second post here when I finish it.

Edit: Second post can be found here.

A few years ago — when I was still in college — I was at a small party with a few friends when I was asked (as part of a game), “If you had to describe your life as a movie, what type of movie would it be?” The answer, at least to me, was obvious: comedy. My life has been a comedy. Not quite Mel Brooks or Leslie Nielsen caliber comedy (and luckily not a Meg Ryan “comedy”), but nevertheless a comedy. Although a lot of un-funny things have happened over the years, the simple fact is that all in all it’s been a funny life, with a lot of very strange, very unexpected things (at least to me) happening on a regular basis.

Fast forward a bit to when I started this blog. I was looking for a way to track a lot of the quirky (for a lack of a better term) events in my life, to write down some of my early memories and life lessons, and to have an outlet for my scattered interests. (I’ve met very few people with as wide array of knowledge, interests, and experiences as myself. When I do, I appreciate it, at least after I get over the whole “jealousy” aspect. I know, jealousy, evil — whatever. I’m working on it, ok?) Hopefully, these posts would then later help someone either learn a bit about something they didn’t know, or help me in the future reflect back on my life, what I’ve learned, and see where I’m going. In other words, this blog is as much for me as it is for you. With that said, I promised myself I wouldn’t post generally boring, mundane events here, unless they offered either a lesson or — as has been the case more often than not — an observation into something more humorous.

This past weekend, I joined a gym and saw pasty naked old guy butt. Bending over. (I couldn’t pour on the eye bleach fast enough.)

Seriously, I thought I’d only have to be subjected to that kind of stuff if I went to jail. Paying for a gym membership, though — well, I guess I didn’t see that one coming. Honestly I’m totally soooo not used to this whole “men’s locker room at the gym” thing. Call me a prude, self-conscious, or whatever you will. I’m not used to it, never was used to it in middle school or high school, and don’t really think I’ll ever be.

The first time in recent history (after college) when I ran into anything like this I was at a spa a couple of months ago. I had just finished a private workout training session when my trainer gave me a pass and said “feel free to use the rest of the facility.” He gave me a quick tour of the place and then got back to work, letting me go around and explore the place for myself.

This place was super nice, and obviously very pricey. They gave me a big, fluffy robe, flip flops, and great big towels I could comfortably wrap myself in, which kept me — and, I had hoped, everybody else — from walking around all naked with dingles dingling. Within about 3 minutes of being there I was already looking like some kind of religious leader, with towels on my head, shoulders, waist, and wearing my robes. Seriously, I felt like I should have been humming meditative incantations.

As I walked around the place I discovered the steam room. An immaculate choir of heavenly hosts shone a light down upon that entrance, and having never been inside a steam room I decided “Why not?” I took of my pseudo-ceremonial robes, leaving myself in nothing but a towel around my waist, flip flops and my undies. Oh, and my glasses.

I took my glasses off and as I walked in this room, I noticed the shadows of a couple of people sitting at different corners of the room, far away from the door. Now, if you’ve never been in one, the thing about a steam room is that the room usually stays so steamy that you can’t see much of anything, or — hopefully — anyone. You’ll see outlines and shadows, until you’re close enough, that is. Looking around (for a seat) I also noticed the naked old guy sitting right in front of me, legs wide open, wearing nothing but a towel. On his kneecap.

I went to the other side of the room and put my glasses back on. Steam was my friend, and I said a small prayer thanking God for not shining the light down upon the sauna. I don’t think I could have survived seeing a spread-eagle naked old guy in that one.

Unfortunately, this weekend’s experience didn’t have the blinding power of steam to protect me. After spending some time in the co-ed steam room (not what you think), I walked into the men’s locker room I saw an old guy, about 70, butt-naked, bending over to scratch his foot. It was like watching an amorphous blob, or a dried apricot with legs and a butt crack walking around. This was made worse by the fact that it took place immediately after accidentally walking into the women’s locker room, noticing I was in the wrong place, then turning around and having some chick laugh and try to tell me “A haha haha ha! *breathe* Don’t worry *breathe* it’s ok.” (If there had been a lady walking around in there I’m sure she wouldn’t have thought it was OK!) My face was already as red as a tomato after noticing my mistake. The naked guy’s butt just made it all the worse.

Having read the following today on Negative99, on WarAxe’s trip down to Mexico, I thought this passage rather fitting:

In reality I got used to [nude beaches] fairly quickly. However, there was one instance in particular that no preparation short of mammography training could have braced me. One day, as we were walking on the beach, I heard my wife say something like “Oh… my… word.” I followed her to gaze to the unfortunate conclusion… there was this HUGE woman with HUGE breasts the size of county fair blue ribbon watermelons. First of all, at rest state these things were totally succumb to gravity… Sir Isaac Newton had these weapons pointed directly at the Earth’s core. But the woman was vigorously putting lotion on them… and the activity caused these masses to violently swing in all sorts of trigonometric patterns. I can’t even imagine the rotational momentums being created.

Right there with you man. Right there with you. (By the way, WarAxe also has a few cool pics of Mayan ruins, so if you’re into that sort of thing, check out that post and his shots.)

4 thoughts on “Weekend Sandwich, Part I: Attack of the Nudists

  1. I feel your gym pain.

    I thought that passing on the meat market workout facilities in favor of a family friendly YMCA was a good maneuver. I was ill-prepared for the assault on my eyes by the geriatric locker room invasions. Why is it that the oldest, most-shrivelled, shrapnel-scarred guy is the one who thinks prancing about ‘au naturel’ is the way to go? I’m nothing special, but surely my nude carcas is only laughable… and doesn’t look like I’m attempt #4 in a “38th attempt is a charm” cloning experiment. And if that wasn’t enough… what possible reason could these same gentlemen have for not closing their shower curtain!!! Is this some sick joke? Did I miss the marquee sign that said “Live Showering Geezers”? Am I caught in Anna Nicole Smith’s financial wet dream?

  2. *lol* Thanks for the empathy. My theory is that the older you get, the less “modesty” you’re likely to have, at least when it comes to the human body. Seriously, I mean, when you first get married you still feel a bit strange being naked with your wife anywhere other than in bed. By the time the second aniversary rolls around — you get my point. Since everyone has a body then, well by the time you’re 65 it doesn’t much matter anymore, now does it? At that age everything pretty much looks the same.

    When to the gym again today. Nekkid old guy was there again, this time I was attacked full frontal. Good thing I didn’t have my glasses on this time. Thank God for myopia, I guess. Nevertheless, I’m sure this guy would be proud:

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