Walking

This post actually began on Wednesday night when I was working out at the ARC (Athletic and Recreation Center). Without even mentioning the less than aerobic aerobics class I attended, I hope to give you a little taste of the....unique...atmosphere that is the ARC by telling you about my walking experience.

I understand that unless you've participated in or watched the duck-waddling sport that is Olympic Speed Walking, walking, as subject matter for a blog, might be boring.

Oh Contrare!(sp?) On Wednesday night, I had finished my 30 minute stint on the elliptical and still had 25 minutes left on my podcast.

"Perfect!" I thought. "Just enough time to walk a mile or two around the track."

The ARC has a brown track that circles the entire second floor of the building: 6 1/2 laps= a mile.

I've walked on this track before, joining the other fitness-crazed and not-so-fitness-crazed individuals in a clockwise rotation, and I stepped onto the track with confidence to begin my trek.

At first, no one was around and I thought nothing about it until I saw an elderly gentleman in a white t-shirt walking towards me.

"That's funny!" I giggled in my head. "He probably doesn't know he's walking the wrong way!"

I passed him, smiled, and continued my walk. Up ahead, a skinny girl in a tank top jogged towards me.

"Weird," I thought. "Two people in one night, going the wrong way."

Next, I saw a group of people coming towards me: a middle aged couple, three teenage boys, and a jogger passing on their right.

What is going on?

I maneuvered my way through the herd as they gave me strange looks. Then it hit me....I was the one going the wrong way. Everyone else was moving in the other direction, and I was disrupting flow.

What the heck? Every other day people walk the other way!

I casually stepped off the track by ab workout equipment and started doing some crunches. I wanted to make it look like I had walked the wrong way on purpose, that i had taken a "short cut" to the ab machines.

This kind of reminds me of the time I made fun of a kid for swimming so far out into the ocean that he had to get rescued.

What made him think he could swim that far? Stupid kid.

The next thing I know, my boyfriend and I are caught in a rip-tide being swept out to sea and an ambulance is rolling onto the beach.

"You hear those sirens?" asked Grandpa Lifeguard as he struggled to pull me on a boogie board. "Those are for you.

I had planned to continue my shpeal about people and their strange walking habits. I was going to tell you that the next day, the current of people was flowing in its original direction. I was then going to tell you the story of a slow walking man down the halls of Stephens College at the True False film festival, but none of that seems that funny right now.

I recognize that I make fun of people way too much. Sometimes its for the sake of comedy (i.e. this blog) and others its simply to make myself feel better (maybe). Unfortunately, I often find myself to be the ultimate butt of the joke. However, that doesn't seem to stop me.

Maybe someday I'll learn my lesson, but until then....happy reading!!!

Airplanes I

You know what sucks? When your sitting in a window seat on an airplane and you have to pee really bad, but the person in the aisle is asleep. I've always wondered what I would do if this happened to me and Monday I found out.

I was minding my own business reading Harry Potter when the grande vanilla latte and 20 ounces of bottled water I had before the flight kicked in. Probably a stupid move on my part.

The lady next to me was snuggled up under her coat, and her head flopped to the left.

Crap. I thought, and tried to tell myself I could make it the final 30 minutes. I quickly realized I couldn't.

Nevertheless, I whipped out my pocket journal and began scribbling about my current dilemma, knowing that it would make excellent fodder for my blog. As soon as I put the pen to the paper, Sleeping Beauty lifted her head and opened her eyes.

Oh no! I thought. I'm not done writing. And so I scribbled faster, glancing sideways every now and then to make sure she was still awake. Sure enough, half way through the writing process, she closed her eyes and let her head sink back to her shoulder.

Dang it! Now what do I do?

Oh the things we do for art.

Luckily for me, the flight attendant must have felt my pain because her angelic voice came over the intercom and said, "We are about to make our final decent. If anyone needs to make a final run to use the facilities or stretch they're legs, please do so now, as we will be turning on the seat belt signs soon. Thank you."

Rumpelstiltskin stirred in her seat, and I jumped at my chance.

"Excuse me!" I said standing. "I need to use the restroom."

She nodded and smiled, then got out of her seat.

"Thank you!"

I rushed to the back of the plane. Relief. Why the heck did I think writing was more important than going to the bathroom. Next time I'm just going to wake her up and you should too. The aisle seat is a crappy seat in the first place, so the person sitting in it shouldn't expect the luxury of sleeping anyway.

Rat Tails

Rat tails are a no no. If you don't know what a rat tail is, then look to your left and try not to throw up.

Kaldis is one of my favorite places to go in Columbia. I enjoy the busy atmosphere, sitting on the couch, reading and writing, drinking vanilla lattes, and chatting with friends.

But today, things at Kaldis took a turn for the worst. I was meeting my friend Jasmine at 1pm, but decided to go a couple hours early to get some work done. I sat down on a couch in the back and pulled out the articles I was going to read. Just as I was starting to read, a guy walked past me. Don't get excited....it was nothing special. Dude was wearing a rat tail.

Oh no! I thought. That is disgusting.

I don't know who first thought the rat tail was a good idea, so for some reason I thought it would be fun to look online and find out.

Apparently, the rat tail originated many many years ago in Eastern countries such as China and India. The style was worn mainly by religious leaders and high class gurus of various kinds.

Somehow, the stringy strand made its way across the ocean and became popular in the U.S. during the 80's. Those who wanted to rebel sported the look making it a symbol of non-conformity.

Today, the hairstyle that was once revered as a status symbol in the Far East has now been abated to rednecks and greasy-euro-wanna-be.

I think the rat tail should be banned. If its not, we should all carry lighters and set them on fire when we see them. Of course we would put the fires out before they actually burned the person. I'm merely suggesting that the only way a rat tail can look good is if it's reduced to ashes.