If most people had a choice between being hot & sweaty and not being hot & sweaty, I think they would choose to not be. And last night at the gym, my friend Lola & I met perhaps the only man on the planet who happens to prefer a maximum amount of heat, and therefore, sweat.
Let me preface this by saying that the gym near my work (where I meet my pal Lola a few times a week) has a temperature problem. It started off as a problem in only one room, which we quickly dubbed “The Hot Dog Breath Room” because it feels like a hot, sweaty, slobbery dog is breathing on you in the dead of summer. It’s nasty, and definitely not normal. No gym I’ve ever been to has had such a problem. Most gyms regulate their temperatures well or at least have lots of fans to help circulate the air; whenever you have 40+ people in one room working out, it’s going to get a little out of control temperature-wise if you aren’t careful. Actually, the temperature itself is not the whole problem- it’s not only hot but muggy. And, while I understand that working out means sweating (and I’m ok with that) if I can do something to mitigate the amount of perspiration I’m producing, I certainly will. Just makes a workout a little more enjoyable, know what I mean? But apparently not everyone knows what I mean. Enter Old Hot Sweaty Dog Man.
Picture it: Lola & I happily score two ellipticals right by the fans (the ONLY two fans in the place), a major coup since the place is pretty packed. And almost as soon as we hop on, Lola notices the fan pointing our way isn’t on. She turns to me and says “You think anyone would mind if I turn the fan on?”. “Definitely not,” I say. “People will be silently thanking you, I’m sure. They probably just don’t want to get off their machines in order to turn it on. You’d basically be a hero.”
Ahhh, how wrong I was.
As she plugs the fan in, the old guy on the machine next to her says “Do you mind not pointing that thing at me? I don’t need the fan blowing on me while I’m working out.” Certainly shocked by not only his statement (who doesn’t want the fan? Hero! She’s supposed to be a hero!) but also his rude tone, Lola smiles, turns the fan away from him and says, perfectly polite to his super nasty, “Sorry! Is this better?” Apparently not. “Why do you girls want to have the fan blowing on you anyway?,” he says, even ruder than before. “You’re working out. You are supposed to be sweating.”
Why, actually sir, I want the fan blowing on me so that while I work out, my hair blows in the wind like a Hollywood starlet’s. You see, the paparazzi are always hounding me, and there’s a big row of windows over there through which they can take my picture. Clearly you must understand that I have to look good- I absolutely need my hair in order to achieve the best photo op possible. Actually, do you mind scooching forward a bit so I can check my lip gloss in that mirror behind you? Love ya! Kisses!
What the hell?! Why does he THINK we want the fan on us? Because it’s freaking HOT, that’s why! Sweating less because a fan is cooling you down does not mean you are working less. Having a fan just means that you don’t feel so hot & icky. This man is not only a masochist but a sadist. Plus he’s a total cranky pants. I want to ask him why he has a bottle of water with him. Why does he need to drink water while working out- according to his own school of thought, shouldn’t he be hot, sweaty AND thirsty?
Which is quite different from my school of thought, which is keep your pointless opinions to yourself, old man, especially if you are going to be rude about them. Fine if you don’t want the fan on you, but be nice about it.
I now blame the whole Hot Dog feeling of that gym on Hot Dog Man. I bet he has gone around being rude to people so often that everyone suffers the heat & humidity out of pure fear. The two fans that exist are there only for times when Hot Dog Man isn’t around to yell at people, and when he arrives they quickly yank the plugs out of the wall and suffer in silence.
It was definitely not worth a confrontation, so we said nothing. But if US Weekly publishes a photo of me and there’s even a glint of perspiration on my forehead, Hot Dog Man is going down.