I just finished a disgusting meal from one of those "Italian" pizza/pasta chain restaurants.
I walked in to find half the gym occupied by a throng of out-of-breath middle-aged women trying to keep up with a spastic aerobics instructor. Their clothes soaked with sweat, the ladies flailed their limbs off the beat of the tinny techno playing from what could only have been a Casio boombox. So close were they to complete coordination failure, I thought the odds were good one of them would tumble into the exercise machines.
Continuing my walkabout, I noticed a troublingly high number of spray bottles for cleaning sweat off equipment.
Now convinced the local drinking water was causing a hyperhidrosis epidemic, I fled to the nearest exit, and saw eight framed pictures on the wall. Every image depicted the same gang of middle-aged aerobics women in action, but in each the women were dressed in a different costume. Hockey jerseys. Lumberjackets. Togas. Mother of God.
I cannot wait to get back to my gym.