Spin On This

As if there weren't enough reasons to be disappointed in the human race. And as if there weren't enough excuses not to go to the gym. Today, I got to multitask and experience both feelings simultaneously!

I had the single worst gym experience of my life this morning. If you belong to the JCC and you were in the 9am spin class this morning, you know. Maybe even you should be ashamed of yourself. Twice I have been in this spin class and twice I have seen arguments nearly break out into fisticuffs. In case I wasn't clear, let me repeat: IN. SPIN. CLASS.

Last time, a guy took a woman's bike while she was getting water and refused to give it up. This week, they had a sign-up sheet. Yet, though people were signed up for the class, people had sneaked in and taken bikes and refused to give them up, even when they took roll. I was signed up, and the head of group fitness at the JCC found me a bike. I went out to pee and came back and my towel and my keys were thrown on the floor. A woman was tuning up the bike.

I started to ask what was up and before I could say anything the woman got right in my face and started bitching me out. "I GOT HERE EARLY DON'T YOU DARE TAKE MY BIKE BLAH DE BLAH." I'm talking about full-on rage. Because apparently giving folks the finger every time you go through an intersection or screaming about parking spaces is not enough in this city, now it is de rigeur to to get into a hissy fit over stationary. fucking. bicycles.

I gave up my spot and worked out elsewhere. Why? Because it's a spin class, people. It's riding on a bike that doesn't go anywhere. To music. If it is such an earth-shattering absolute that you must spin on your bike in the JCC at 9am, so much so that you will cheat and lie and destroy whoever gets in your way, then guess what? YOU ARE PATHETIC. If that is your one goal for Saturday, then your life officially sucks and I am glad I'm not you.

I am spending most of my non-working hours NOT spinning, mind you, but trying to teach my six-year-old how to measure his responses to everyday situations. We have little deals, medium deals, big deals, and weird deals. A little deal is when someone takes your spot in line or accidentally knocks over your legos. A big deal is when your house catches on fire and a burning piece of the house falls and amputates all of your limbs. A medium deal is somewhere in between. A weird deal is when your dog starts speaking russian and makes you a cheese omelette for dinner. But that's another story.

The point is, my kid is trying his absolute hardest to remember that you don't haul off and slug someone over a little deal, and when you trip and fall you don't scream like your house is on fire. But being in that class this morning, I wonder why I bother. Because I don't see any evidence that anyone else does. The supposedly adult, educated, professional people in that room behaved worse than my two-year-old, let alone Gianni. How is he supposed to learn when there is a whole city full of people who don't get it yet?

Shame on you, people. That is a big deal. Or a weird deal, at the very least.