F*ckin Gym Idjut

Fuckin’ idiot at the gym today.

Proper wanker.

Trying to test my limits. Standing in front of some exercise paraphernalia I wanted to use, I approached him and politely asked if he intended to use it. He was young, late teens. Shorter and squat heavy with a pug face and deep brown skin. Unfortunately, he was also hyper-confrontational. I managed to contain his poor attitude through the use of some de-escalating language, albeit somewhat tinged with sarcasm. I noticed that after his initial adrenal rush and talk-before-thinking-attitude, his eyes started to glisten.

I verbally pushed to see how far he was willing to go and watched him slowly unfold. He was a boy, determined to assert himself in the here and now, as a man. Yet, his cues betrayed him, his body shifting; still oriented toward me, but with a strong hint of submission as he tilted his left shoulder away. I think he was overwhelmed by my use of dual-syllabic words. He stood frozen, gargoyle still, both motionless and moronic, another sign that he was ‘all fuckin’ mouth, no trousers.’

By this stage I was squared, edging closer and chin tucked in, hoping that on some evolutionary level he was still genetically encoded to understand that I meant business. The storm passed as quickly as it had come. I hastened on to other exercises.

This isn’t London.

I still don’t entirely understand the code of these streets.


2 Responses to “F*ckin Gym Idjut”

  1. starmeaker Says:

    It is an interesting lot we run into each day in the gym, more dogs peeing on shrubs than anything else. Great post, I wish I could believe that it might deescalate the vibe that is pervasive in every club, at every hour, as we engage in the lonely, endless pursuit that is fitness. Keep it up, you inspire many of us daily. The code of the streets is a mystery to anyone who is paying attention…..

  2. His Dark Side Says:

    Thanks Mr. StarMeaker!!! Just my regular rant about territorial dingbats at the gym. Cheers for the support.


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