Saturday, March 03, 2012

Gym Armageddon
Cricket time in Lucca.

After worrying all week about how to get from Happy gym to Olympia Club my friend Patrizia gave me a ride after class in her car. Too bad that was the only thing that I had thought could possibly go wrong because, in the end, it was everything else.

I got up to the classroom only to find that there was a zumba loving girl there who wanted the low down on my course. Zumba is this mega-business fitness class which involves listening to Waka-Waka by Shakira over and over again while doing Latin dance moves in an aerobic manner, that is booty shaking and chest contractions. It is a sweat bath that does burn a lot of calories if you can stand the repetitive nature of the thumping Latin beat. It turns out that the Zumba teachers here wait for packets from America with the choreography all spelled out for them and they do that until it is dead and buried and the next packet arrives. I can't wait till this flash in the pan trend dies away so I can get all of these ladies' time spots. Meanwhile, I do things the old fashioned way: I eisteal them from the Internet. No seriously, I  make a lot of it up my damned self.

Zumba girl was unconvinced of the beauty of Metamorfosi. I could not give her my full attention because as we were having a rather unhappy chat, I realized that my hand sanitizer had exploded in my bag and ruined my ipod which was now full of wave-like images and no volume. Luckily I had a spare for just such an emergency. But still, it is bad, bad news. Digging deeper into my gym bad, I realized that I didn't have my shoes. But at least I had some ugly shoes that would work. Next I realized that I forgot to bring the stretch ball that my boss wanted me to show her today. All the while I half heartedly tried to sell zumba girl on the class. I had decided to make life easier on everyone and not do choreography, but just do repetitions. This turned out to be a mistake. Then my supervisor walked in and told me that he was happy I made it on time. Too bad, he added, that it showed in my appearance that I had been in a rush. Nice confidence boost, thanks for that.

I had a little discussion with the women who kept lowering the blinds for the classroom window because I need the publicity since the course is so new and no one knows what it is. I said to her you do realize that our images are being flashed across the gym on giant televisions every 15 seconds, I hardly think the blinds should be a real source of concern for you. I started in on the repetitions and zumba girl left after two minutes. Thanks for your support zumba girl. The other two gyms hate choreography, but the Olympians love it, apparently. After class my "assistant" Graziella told me that everyone liked the Beyonce` number and was disappointed that we weren't doing something like that.

I also made the mistake of wearing tights under my sweatpants to stay warm during the pause between lessons. What happened is that I started sweating like a man with huge drops of sweat rolling down my face and hitting my mat during the whole second half and making audible splat noises whilst creating a slippery slick under my knees. Lord, I prayed, let the camera for this room still be broken as I wiped my face with the only fabric in my bag which happened to be my t-shirt dress.

I had to wait for the zumba girl to get off her cell phone and beg her to give me another chance next week when I plan on doing choreography. ARGH. She said she would come next Friday. Hooray I guess. I have been trying not to give a physical description of her, but.. . Nope I'm still not. I hung out in the lobby after class to see if my room flashed on the screen and sadly it did. Meanwhile the anorexic smoker girl who works at the front desk asked me where I was from. I know she knows so I answered warily. She said, "And you came here? I would have stayed in New York." As I left to hoof it home in my sweat-through leotard, tights, soiled t-shirt dress, and leather jacket through the chilled night air all I could think is, "Yeah I think you could still get there. If the bide-a-wee home (pet shelter/ animal exchange program) still exists, you f-ing b*." TGIF.

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