Bad Case of Lovin' You

The undisputed highlight of my weekday (besides school lunch) is the time I spend at the gym. When the clock strikes quitting time (4:40 p.m.) I change out of indoor shoes (they are kind of like dress sandals men wear with socks- shut up everyone does it) and powerwalk with my head down past an independent produce vendor selling either bean sprouts and tofu (this time of year) or seasonal fruit (apples, pears, persimmons and mandarin oranges during the fall) on my way to Well Being Fitness Center.

To get there, I cross two busy intersections which, despite the presence of stop lights and pedestrian walk signs, is always more dangerous than it should be. Motorists routinely run red lights, and even when I choose to be cautious enough to let them speed by, there is still a risk of getting taken out by one of the chicken deliverymen on a motor scooter (I am not calling them chicken deliverymen to mock their manhood either. They actually do deliver chicken directly to your door. Fried, mainly).

When I get to the building that houses my gym, I hop up the gray, stone polished stairs two at a time (note: all office buildings in Korea have polished, stone steps and thick, silver metal guard rails) and pass a nore-bang where I am inevitably met by the startled stare of someone who obviously did not expect to see a white dude when they got out of bed in the morning.

Well Being Fitness Center is located on the third floor, and when I become visible through the glass double doors, the woman who works behind the counter initiates our choreographed, near wordless daily routine. I take off my boots and slip into indoor slippers while she grabs two neatly folded towels, each the size of a washcloth, along with a numbered locker key attached to a plastic wristband and sets them on the counter. I hand her my membership card which she swipes and stashes in a designated holder that corresponds with my locker number. Meanwhile, I turn and grab navy blue short shorts (XXL but only reach mid thigh) and a lime green polyester shirt- either an XL (which is probably only a medium) or a XXL (large to us westerners) depending on how fat I feel. We usually pull this maneuver off flawlessly, and often times she will have the towels and key ready to go before I even have my shoes off. However, on certain occasions, the setup of the restroom calls for me to visibly pass by the doors without stopping. This throws off our routine and, due to the duration of time spent out of sight, I know that she knows I was in there making stinky. It is an awkward situation all the way around.

Typically, Koreans like to keep to themselves, make no eye contact and act genuinely reserved. They make no noise when exerting themselves during a lift, unlike myself who grunts like a caveman while performing a light warm-up set. One exception- earlier this week there was a guy emphatically belting the lyrics to Robert Palmer's "Bad Case of Lovin' You (Doctor Doctor) which is blared as part of a continuous loop along with Korean pop, unedited hardcore rap and Mariah Carey.  

"Shange ma bruuuuuuu har to led."

Although they tend to avoid conversing with each other, they make up for it with their use of cell phones. I am of the opinion that a slow walk on the treadmill is neither the ideal time for a chat nor the best way to burn calories, but who am I to judge?

Traces of modern technology are found throughout the gym and not solely pressed tightly against the faces of of speed walkers on the treadmill. Over in the corner there is a contraption you can strap yourself to and levitate upside down. I am completely unaware of its benefits, but it is quite popular. There are also two machines that have a thick canvass belt attached to both sides creating a loop. Flip a switch and the belt vibrates and massages any part of your body you wish. I have seen these machines in the U.S., but they are usually accompanied by enough caution tape and 'supervision required' signs that they are generally avoided. There is a waiting line for them in my gym.

There is one man, however, who eschews all of the modern equipment and sticks with a few tried and true lifts. You would think that he would be my kind of guy, but I downright despise him.

He routine never changes. He starts off by doing sit ups on the floor or a decline bench with his head near the floor. Next he moves to the bench press where he does a few warm up sets, leaves his weight on the bar, goes to the stationary bike for 20 or 30 minutes, does some pulldowns on the machine where he lifts his butt off the seat with the momentum of the weight (terrible form and I don't really see the benefit) and then goes back to the bench press.

Normally, I don't care or criticize anything anyone else does in the gym. It is not my business. There is one thing, though, that drives me crazy. Regardless of who is using the bench (there is only one), even if someone is in the middle of a set, this asshole will drop his locker key, towel, cell phone and lifting gloves right under the bench. He totally camps on the bench during his whole workout. I bite my lip and chalk it up to cultural differences, but you cannot tell me that some 'roid head at Gold's Gym in the U.S. would just let that slide. What a jerk!

Alright, so maybe I didn't paint the best picture of my so-called favorite part of the week, but even with all its flaws, it is still my gym. It is close to work. It has everything I need. And I always no what to expect, be it selfish, uncreative, bench-bogarting jerk-off, or a lunatic Robert Plant admirer.

"I know you rike it. You rike it on top"