Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Today was exhausting. Even for me.
Beyoncé has left the building
The Run the World routine was a bit lackluster at Happy gym because I hadn't figured out all of the repetitions at that point; by the time I did the second class at LIFE fitness it was starting to come together; and you would have thought that when it was finally time for the big show at Olympia Club it would have been fabulous, but you would be only half right. Before class officially started about fifteen females of various ages entered and we did a couple of slam dunk practice rounds, but when the clock struck five thirty I got a bit flustered and we were off the counts by a bit. And I kind of forgot a chunk. Most of them, hopefully, didn't notice, but I did get some glaring looks afterwards that either meant that they did notice or that I pushed their buttons a little too hard by making them do a Beyoncé number first thing without any warning.

I have a dream.

They were serving prosciutto sandwiches on focaccia in the main workout room for Fat Tuesday. This was not lost on F who only abstained because we are vegetarians. He came into the sala with me to see if it was, in fact, possible to use our audio cable to attach an Ipod to their mixing board. The funniest part was that he had to pad up the stairs in blue plastic surgical plastic slippers which barely got over his size 13 feet because the powers that be at the Olympia Club do not wish to dampen the blue runway carpet they had covering their wooden floors. My new co-worker Nicola's response to my suggestion that he too could use an ipod instead of always having to pay for new CDs --although I suspect the teacher are mostly using pre-made CDs from 1995-- was "K you are the future. You are from NY. You should only speak English to people and watch them freak out." Um okay.

Soda and ham sandwiches at the gym. Yum?

There is only one meter between me and my destiny.

I also want to say here and now for the record that my dream in life is to work in the Zeus sala. Right now they have me in the Apollo sala, which is one fourth the size of the Zeus and is completely sealed off with persian blinds that are perpetually closed. No one can see what we are doing unless that telecamera is in fact working, but I have yet to identify it's whereabouts so it is still possible that it is taking pictures of my roots or of my tush the whole entire time. To give you an idea of the disparity between the rooms I barely packed in 23 clients (according to Rocco, my boss, who also wants me to get a count each night from now on, please) and the Zeus had 53.  The Apollo is like Flushing, Queens, and the Zeus is like the Upper East Side. I am from Flushing originally, but I lived most of my life on the Upper West Side and then in Park Slope, which everyone knows is the annex of Upper East Side. But you get the drift: my clients arrived on a bus and theirs in town cars. My mission is clear. Everyone in the whole joint watches what is going on in the Zeus. I thought of leading a congo line for next week in which I have people chant, "Mercoledi/Wednesday-six-thirty-Zeus," (which is the time and place I would ideally like a second class to take place.) But F said that would be inappropriate. Boh. I have a dream even if that dream has the name of a second rate fraternity.

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