Not Today

When I got to the gym I realized I’d left my headphones at home. I was disappointed, but not enough to turn around and ride the train for 15 minutes.

Moments into my workout I was miserable. Music was the only thing that got me through the repetitive act of picking up metal and putting it down, and picking it up and putting it down.

The overhead speakers blared some whiny song. "And from the ballroom floor we are in celebration, one good stretch before our hibernation. Our dreams assured, and we all will sleep well... sleep well."

I hated it. Gym music usually sounded like it had been picked out by an emotionally unstable thirteen-year-old girl, or a strong gay man who’d taken too much ecstasy.

I was waiting for a treadmill to open when I felt a tap on my shoulder. One look at the lady standing behind me was all it took for me to realize that I was entering into a conversation that I wanted no part of. Her hair was short, and only grew in patches on her scalp, and her clothes would have been refused if donated to a thrift store.

“My husband won’t get a vasectomy.”

She looked at me, awaiting a response.

“He doesn’t want one, but I think he should get one.”

She once again awaited a response, looking at me like I’d just heard the most exciting news of the year.

By this time I’d had it. Without saying a word to her I walked out. I couldn’t handle it. Not today. 

 http://thelakehouseoffloverslane.blogspot.com/

Never Saw It Coming

The girl in front of me hasn’t looked up from her phone for 10 blocks. Literally not looked up once. Not while crossing the street. Not while weaving in between crowds in the crosswalk. Normally I hate people who go through life with their faces fused to a screen, but this is kind of impressive.  

She looks like she works in fashion. You can always tell those types. There’s something noticeably superficial about them, but not in a bad way. They craft their appearance. Everyday. Even on Sundays. It’s part of their job, and I respect that. I find it hard enough to find a pair pants that don’t smell like fish.

She’s still going. Keeping her streak alive, god bless her.

Now we’re at 5^th ave. This is going to be a tough one. There she goes.

Fuck me, this girls a pro.

She deserves a medal. She deserves to be put atop a wooden pedestal while her ringtone blares throughout the speakers in the stadium. The crowd on their feet, hats removed, fighting back tears. This is a truly special moment. I’m witnessing a god given talent being put to use. She’s…

Fuck. Fuck, oh, shit. Fucking ouch. Oh. God damn.

She never saw that bike messenger coming, and neither did I. I was too transfixed on the miracle unfolding before me. She got up. She’s all right.  That had to have hurt, but it was beautiful to watch.

An explosion of iced coffee, blond hair, and bicycle chains. A modern day cheetah and impala. 

                                                      http://voguein1.blogspot.com/