Have Mercy

So it's 9:00 and I'm getting a bit of a late start on my workout because the teen is back home again from boy scout camp. (Please note: postings will be erratic as long as he is in a 10 mile radius to the computer and the haz mat crews are coming in and out of the house to help sanitize the camp locker.) So off I go on my newest gym friend, the elliptical. The gym's already a little crowded so I take the elliptical at the very end of the row, against the wall. The row in front of the ellipticals is comprised of bikes but hardly anyone uses them - until this morning.

A pretty young thing and her buzz-cut muscular boyfriend saddle up on the bikes in front of me. The pretty young thing is having muscle boy show her how to work it (press on pedals - repeat in circular motion - continue as desired. Don't want to overload the circuits on the first day). He is decked out in a muscle tee shirt with "insane blah-blah-blah posse" written on the back. She is wearing (mostly) a black lacey bra somewhat surrounded by a police-do-not-cross-yellow-tape colored tank top. Her ta-tas are reminiscent of Desi Arnez pounding on his famous Cuban bongos, belting out "Babaloo" and even the casual onlooker is getting quite a show. I, however, am front row center (not of my choosing) and would desperately like my money refunded.

Lady Tata takes the bike directly in front of me when I notice the bright white thin jersey boxers with the turned down waistband that are posing as workout pants. Former plumbers I have employed in their squat positions have me fully prepared for the lastest generation's version of "butt crack". I am holding my breath as I do NOT want to have to see anyone's butt crack right in front of me. I feel like that character in "A Clockwork Orange" with his eyes taped open: I just cannot avoid this view. I notice next that it appears she's going commando as well although I am far from being able to confirm outright; some self-preservation skills are still functioning through this visual assault. They begin pedaling and flirting, flirting and pedaling and then - mercifully - they're done. Ellie Mae and Jethro are off to their meeting with Bob Guccione and/or Abacrombie & Fitch.

Dispensing with all other forms of gym etiquette, these two leave without having cleaned off their machines. I'm just about to call the Board of Health as Lady Tata almost surely must be reprimanded for her commando tactics and Lord only knows what's going on under his camouflage crops. I mean, come on, at least use some deli paper if you're not going to clean things off. But I am satisfied at this point that they have moved on and are providing some other gym member a good story for the dinner table tonight. School is less than a month away. There is an end in sight - only a good one this time.