Considering all of the entries I've had about my experiences in the hot tub at the local LA Fitness, I bet you're all thinking that I spend way too much time there. If so, that's utter nonsense. There's no such thing as spending too much time in a hot tub. If I weren't so busy with the Web site, I'd practically live in it. My skin could be peeling off after 10 consecutive hours in the hot tub, and I wouldn't care. The janitor would have to carry me out, kicking and screaming, as he attempts to close the building down each night.
Most of my trips into the hot tub aren't worth writing about. Most of the time, it's just me in there. Sometimes, there's just one other person. And sometimes there's a ghost. Seriously. In a recent hot tub experience, I felt like something was touching me underwater. I thought I was imagining things the first time it happened, but when it occurred twice more, I hopped out, got my goggles, and plopped back in to investigate. I looked all around, and nothing. Then, it happened again! Utterly spooked this time, I left for good.
Fortunately, I have not felt the bad-touch uncle ghost since, though I've had some other scary and strange experiences. Some include old friends like Skeletor and Diarrhea of Mouth Guy, and another includes a new person who will hopefully become a staple of Jerks of the Week going forward. I'm going to call him Old Bikini Man, but let's get to our old friends first...
Last week, I published an entry called Skeletor's Hot Takes, where I detailed a list of Skeletor's strange opinions, such as Stephanie shouldn't be a name given to baby girls because it's too difficult of a name to spell. Skeletor, for those of you who are new, is an 85-year-old great grandmother (she literally has two grandkids with a third on the way) who routinely hits on me in the hot tub. She once invited me over to her house for some "Cobb salad." It's been quite disturbing, but also amusing at the same time.
One Monday evening, I entered the hot tub, relieved to be by myself. I thought the greatest threat was the bad-touch uncle ghost coming back, but to my utter disdain, Skeletor entered the pool area and immediately walked toward the hot tub. As she joined me, I closed my eyes, hoping she'd realize that I didn't want to be disturbed.
My plan instantly failed.
"Can you sleep while you're taking an airplane ride?" she asked.
Umm... what kind of a question is that to ask someone? Imagine if instead of saying, "hi" to someone, you just approached them and asked if they could sleep on airplanes. Actually, come to think of it, it's so crazy that it might work. If you're a single guy, try hitting on a girl at a bar by asking her if she can sleep on an airplane, and let me know how it goes!
"Can you sleep while you're taking an airplane ride?" she asked me again, in her southern accent, even though she claims to be from Denmark.
Me: Uhh... no, not really.
Skeletor: No, I can't either.
And that was it. The end of that particular topic. I have no idea why she asked me this, but whatever. I closed my eyes once more, but realized immediately that it was a futile plan.
"My son lives in Japan," she said.
Me: That's great.
Skeletor: Yeah, he flies on them airplanes all the time.
Conversation topic No. 2 complete.
I have no idea what these questions or statements were all about. Why was she asking/telling me these things?
She was sitting on the same ledge as me in the hot tub, but there was some space between us. I looked and saw a mustachioed, middle-aged man entering the hot tub. I realized that that this was my opportunity to stop talking to Skeletor for the rest of the evening.
I wasted no time and skootched over, creating a wider gap between me and Skeletor.
Me: You can sit down here!
Mustachioed Man: Are you sure? You two looked like you were having a conversation.
Me: No, please, I insist!
The man shrugged his shoulders and sat down. He was instantly accosted by Skeletor.
"Can you sleep while you're taking an airplane ride?"
I smiled and closed my eyes, and after about 15 minutes, it was time to get out. I stood up and looked at the other two individuals in the hot tub. Skeletor was still talking to the mustachioed man. The man looked at me with utter hatred, as I'm sure he quickly realized why I was so eager to move over.
Just a guess, but I'm thinking that he didn't accept the invitation to eat Cobb salad with her.
Diarrhea of Mouth Guy:
Diarrhea of Mouth Guy is obviously another person who won't shut up. He's one of those people who talks over you, even after asking you a question. I absolutely loathe those sorts of individuals because they're so self-absorbed with what they want to say and don't really care about anyone else's opinion.
I hadn't seen Diarrhea of Mouth Guy in a while, but there he was one Tuesday evening. Diarrhea of Mouth Guy apparently let himself go. He now sports an unkempt beard, which surprisingly had a lot of gray in it. I thought he was only a bit older than me, but this made him look like he was in his late 40s.
"Rahh, where have you been, rahh?" he asked.
I thought he was talking to me, but just as I was about to answer, a balding man in his 40s behind me replied.
Balding Man: Just been playing at various clubs recently.
Diarrhea of Mouth Guy: Haven't seen ya in a while. Which clubs were you playing at?
Balding Man: I was over at...
Diarrhea of Mouth Guy: Ever play at Sweeny's, rahh?
Balding Man: I was over at Jack's in Newtown on...
Diarrhea of Mouth Guy: I was near Jack's one night, rahh! When were you at Jack's, rahh?
Balding Man: Last weekend, actually.
Diarrhea of Mouth Guy: Why didn't you tell me you were at Jack's, rahh? I could've met up with you there and met the girl of my dreams, rahh!
Balding Man: I...
Diarrhea of Mouth Guy: I could've told a girl I knew a member of the band, and maybe she could've liked me, you never know, rahh.
Balding Man: I....
Diarrhea of Mouth Guy: Could've been the girl of my dreams. You made me miss a chance to meet Mrs. Right, rahh!
Wow. I never thought that this guy was cool or anything, but he's a dude in his mid- or late-40s who's banking on telling women that he knows a member of some random cover band that plays locally. Also, how is this the "perfect woman?" If your idea of a perfect woman is someone who's impressed that you know a balding man in his late 40s playing in some sort of local band, I'd say your standards of a "perfect woman" are pretty damn low.
Anyway, they transitioned to actual music conversation.
Diarrhea of Mouth Guy: What's the hardest instrument to play, gotta be the drums, right?
Balding Man: I'd say the sax...
Diarrhea of Mouth Guy: Rahh, gotta be the drums, right? Rahhh! So much adrenaline needed to bang on stuff, rahhh!
Balding Man: Drums aren't diffic...
Diarrhea of Mouth Guy: Wish I knew how to play the drums, rahhh! Then I'd be able to meet the perfect woman, rahhh!
Balding Man: You could learn, it's really not that...
Diarrhea of Mouth Guy: I'll never be able to learn something so difficult, rahhh! What about the harmonica, is that hard to learn?
Balding Man: I've been messing around on that thing for two years, and I can't...
Diarrhea of Mouth Guy: What about the harmonica, do you think I could meet Mrs. Right by playing the harmonica, rahhh?
Balding Man: Learning the harmonica is tougher than the dr...
Diarrhea of Mouth Guy: Maybe I'll learn the harmonica and then be in your band so I can meet the perfect woman, rahhh!
Balding Man: Ugh...
I'm going out on a limb here, but I'm willing to guess that Balding Man won't be telling Diarrhea of Mouth Guy when and where his next gig is. If I'm right, poor Diarrhea of Mouth Guy. How will he ever meet a woman who's interested in being talked over?
Old Bikini Man:
Unlike my old gym, where there is nothing but fat women bobbing and old men rotting in the pool, there are actually young people who swim on occasion. One Saturday afternoon, I entered the pool area and saw six high-schoolers swimming together. They were competitive swimmers, and the one girl there was wearing a Lower Moreland Lightning swim cap, which caught my eye because I swam for that particular club team while growing up.
I wanted to race some of them, but by the time I was done stretching, they all got out and went to the hot tub.
After my mile, I went over to the hot tub, and I was surprised to see that they were still there. I actually wanted to ask them who was coaching the team, but I never got the chance because an old, chubby man in his 70s continuously asked them questions, like where they were going to college. Most of them were seniors, so the questions were appropriate.
There was nothing weird about this, and I never imagined that this afternoon would turn into a writing experience. However, when the high-schoolers left, the old man turned to me and began asking me questions, like what I did for work. Once I told him I used to be a loan officer back in 2007, he began naming lots of people who made out like bandits in the housing crash, and he kept asking me if I knew them. I always answered no, so he droned on and on about what these people did to cheat everyone.
Still, nothing weird. The conversation was boring, but not strange. And that's when it happened. Two unbelievably hot chicks wearing bikinis entered the pool area. They looked like models, and they were so out of place; it's almost like they booked a flight to Miami and somehow landed in the LA Fitness parking lot.
The two hot chicks entered the hot tub, and the old man immediately shook his head. He then said one of the strangest sentences I've ever heard.
"Wow, I miss being young, I used to have a body like that!"
Uhh... what??? You used to have a body of a 22-year-old chick with a big rack, tight stomach and hot legs? What the hell does that even mean!?
The two girls overheard this, and then they looked at each other oddly as if they were thinking, "What the hell is this guy talking about?"
"Ahh, to be young!" he shouted. "What I wouldn't do for bodies like yours again!"
The two girls laughed nervously, and then decided that they had enough. They exited the hot tub posthaste and scurried into the locker room, where I imagine they got dressed as quickly as possible, revoked their memberships at the front desk and boarded the airplane from whence they came.
"What I wouldn't have done to have a body like theirs so I could grab that one in the white bikini and f*** her as hard as I could right here in this hot tub!" he screamed.
Wow. Fortunately, there was no one left in the pool area, save for me. That's when I decided that I had to leave.
Me: Gotta go to work, see ya.
Old Bikini Man: Wait, I wanted to ask if you knew some others from the housing crash.
Me: Maybe next time!
Yeah, there was no way I was going to linger around. Not with some old dude who wished he looked like a 22-year-old woman so he could bang the other 22-year-old woman. Not that there's anything wrong with that?
Actually, I don't know. There's definitely something wrong with that. There's generally something wrong with most of the people who go into this hot tub. But that's not going to stop me from spending time in there.