Give 'em the old hocus pocus.
So I'm watching the US Open in the complex's gym while walking on the treadmill, and I've got the place all to myself. Eventually I decide that they aren't going to show more highlights of Agassi or any new matches, so I begin to wind down, slowing my pace. About a minute and a half from the end of the program, a young woman waltzes right in and hops on the treadmill next to me. I had intended to leave in less than two minutes anyway, but because of her sudden appearance, I start feeling a bit weird about keeping to that schedule. I think, "She'll just think I'm leaving because I don't want to share the gym or don't want her to watch me exercise." Simply because there's a hint of truth to those statements, I feel all the more convinced I should actually stay for a little while longer -- say ten minutes. Ten minutes is reasonable, right? Ten minutes shows that you aren't leaving because someone else walked in. You've demonstrated that you don't mind working out with other people. You've proved to the world that you leave the gym in your own good time, when you're ready and not a moment before (but perhaps a moment after). After all, if I leave when she walks in, maybe she'll start to think she controls the place. She'll tell her friends, "Oh yeah, other people use it, but they leave as soon I come in. It's really like having my own private exercise facility." (She's one of those types who says "exercise facility.") And I don't want that. I don't want to be the alpha female, but I don't want anyone else to be the alpha female, either. I want the gym to be a purely egalitarian community. (I'm one of those types who says "egalitarian community.")
But I also don't want to stay. On my treadmill display, it says "COOL DOWN" in huge red lights, and I glance over to see if she's noticed it. She can't honestly think I walk at this snail's pace for a workout. Come on, this is a cool down pace, clearly. But then I note that she's confused by the display on the other treadmill, which can only mean that she wants mine. It is the best one. I don't know why, but the black one is the alpha treadmill, no doubt about it.
And I'm done with it, really, so why shouldn't I let her have it? Besides, I'm beginning to worry that she finds the US Open annoying. Is there any way not to feel self-conscious about what television you're watching when someone else walks in? Maybe if I were watching a news channel I'd feel better. If she complained, I could turn to her with a sniff and say, "Don't you care about current events? Don't you even realize what's going on in the world right now?" That would settle it. She would say, "Oh, well, yes, of course," and then stare intently at the ticker on the screen, resolutely pretending to care. But it wouldn't be so easy with the US Open. It sounds much less impressive to say, "Don't you even realize who Andy Murray is?" That would fly in the UK, but it wouldn't fly here.
So I stopped walking, and as soon as I get one foot off the treadmill, she eagerly asks, "Are you done with that?" I say that I am, and we smile at each other. She gets on the treadmill, and I collect my umbrella and keys before walking calmly to the exit, like I'd planned it this way all along -- which, in fact, I had.
But I also don't want to stay. On my treadmill display, it says "COOL DOWN" in huge red lights, and I glance over to see if she's noticed it. She can't honestly think I walk at this snail's pace for a workout. Come on, this is a cool down pace, clearly. But then I note that she's confused by the display on the other treadmill, which can only mean that she wants mine. It is the best one. I don't know why, but the black one is the alpha treadmill, no doubt about it.
And I'm done with it, really, so why shouldn't I let her have it? Besides, I'm beginning to worry that she finds the US Open annoying. Is there any way not to feel self-conscious about what television you're watching when someone else walks in? Maybe if I were watching a news channel I'd feel better. If she complained, I could turn to her with a sniff and say, "Don't you care about current events? Don't you even realize what's going on in the world right now?" That would settle it. She would say, "Oh, well, yes, of course," and then stare intently at the ticker on the screen, resolutely pretending to care. But it wouldn't be so easy with the US Open. It sounds much less impressive to say, "Don't you even realize who Andy Murray is?" That would fly in the UK, but it wouldn't fly here.
So I stopped walking, and as soon as I get one foot off the treadmill, she eagerly asks, "Are you done with that?" I say that I am, and we smile at each other. She gets on the treadmill, and I collect my umbrella and keys before walking calmly to the exit, like I'd planned it this way all along -- which, in fact, I had.