The Captain of Gym Jerks

I’ve written about Gym Jerks before. I’ve written about the locker room before. Today, I met the Captain of Gym Jerks.

I lost about five minutes of my scheduled workout after walking in to the locker room today. During those five minutes, I became so transfixed by the horrific sight before me, that all I could do was watch in hypnotized agony. Here is my best recollection of what I remember seeing:

An overweight Hispanic man, approximately 50-60 years old standing naked on the wooden bench. Below this man, a dozen crumpled, moist paper towels littered the carpet. Eyes closed, this man was gently swaying to the music piped in to the bathroom speakers while feverishly scrubbing folds, crevices, and other unmentionables with the remaining paper towels in his hand. After thoroughly exhausting the drying capacity of one paper towel, he’d cast it to the floor with charismatic flair. He’d then unfold another paper towel, and start his unhygienic hygiene practice once again, swaying gently to the beat of Lady Gaga’s “Applause.”

There I stood, like one of those cobras, helplessly enchanted by the flute of an Indian man. Eventually, my brain caught up to what was happening. I was like:
Jackie Chan

Then I got the hell out and hit the weights. Captain Gym Jerk, you win today, sir.


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