We've recently become gym-goers again, facing the undeniable speed at which Old is careening toward us in a flabby, drooly rage, and I've noticed just what fertile people-watching ground the gym is. Just a few days ago, for instance - SPOTTED: woman answering her phone and having a perfectly relaxed conversation while running full-speed on the treadmill (how does one do this?). ALSO SPOTTED: pear-shaped man wearing black lycra leggings playing racquetball, tiny ankles scuttling about furiously (interesting choice, sir).
There are other things I like to observe about people between flipping the pages of my Vanity Fair on the stairmaster and listening to the least annoying television through my headphones while trekking the "rolling hills" of the treadmill, but the most interesting person we've seen at the gym so far...the most intriguingly odd...is definitely a guy I like to call Creepy Creeperson.
The only place I ever see Creepy is on the treadmill. Every time we go, we look to see if he's there. Listen, I'm sure he may be a very nice guy in his day-to-day life, so okay, I'm not assuming to know anything about who he really is. But in our sole interaction with him, at that gym, Creepy becomes an object of uncomfortable wonderment to me.
Creepy has this very unusual way of using the treadmill. I typically notice he chooses the same one in the corner upstairs, overlooking the weight area below. Downstairs is where we first spotted Creepy from, actually. Because I'm not feeling a Flip video moment right now, I won't be showing you my impersonation of Creepy, so the best I can do is describe it to you in as accurate detail as possible.
First of all, he leans forward on the machine (you know that posture really exhausted people take on the stepper?), wrapping his fingers around the sidebars and locking his elbows so hard his arms look like pencils, and he gets close close close to the stats panel. He seems to always be straining and leaning, straining and leaning, so I can only assume he has jacked his incline up to 400,000. Hi fixes his gaze intently on the people below (seriously, SO VERY INTENTLY AND LIFETIME MOVIE KILLER-LIKE)...and then comes the flair, that which makes the whole thing a beautiful, beautiful trainwreck. His shoulders. HIS SHOULDERS. He sways them. He sashays them. Yes, arms locked, legs plodding, eyes boring holes into innocent bystanders below, yet shoulders scrunched up to his jawline, catwalking as if disjointed from the rest of his body.
I don't know, did I explain that well?
Ah, people. They're not dull, are they?
