OK, I’d better start this little story with the admission that I like 80s “hair bands.” Yes, Europe, Whitesnake, the Scorpions, those groups. Yes, I still have a few cassette tapes under the bed (literally. I really need to dust under there more than once a month.)
Anywho, the gym I work out at has two main sections. The weight room is one chunk of the gym, and there’s a thick wall between it and the cardio area. I guess the sounds of muscle-heads and dropping dead lifts makes joggers and aerobics classes nervous. Each side has a separate sound system, with the weight lifters getting mostly heavy metal, combat rock, and other inspirational stuff, while the bouncers and trotters may have nothing, lighter rock, or whatever the class instructor is using.
Saturday morning the weight room was both empty and mellow. Empty because a LOT of people were down in Amarillo at the Susan G. Komen walk, the Fair, and a motorcycle rally for Toys-For-Tots (TM). The music? Europop, of all things, with a little mild punk tossed in. I suspect it came off someone’s iThing. So I did my weights, wondered why heavy weights are so heavy, dodged an overly enthusiastic lady as she demonstrated (weights in hand) a new flye that she’d been doing (while standing in the path between the weight rack and the benches), and was pleased to discover that nothing hurt that shouldn’t. Suffering partly completed, I picked up my stuff and went into the cardio area.
And I burst out laughing. The boot-camp workout instructor had music blaring, and a very, very familiar trumpet line with electric guitar backing resounded through the room. Yes, you got it. “Dah dah da-dah, dah dah dee dah daaah.”
Why did I start laughing? Because the instructor was yelling out a reverse time count, which made me think of:
Curse you, little lizard company, curse you!