You’ll find two types of people at your average fitness club. Those who WANT to be on TV and those who DO NOT. Both are fun to mess with...Take the dude walking in circles by the medicine balls. The one in the unitard. He’s been waiting to flex on-cue every since you struck up the fancycam. At the very least act like you’re rolling. Dude’s got bolts comin’ out of his neck.
Me, I prefer the la-dees. Like Granny over there. Sure as I’m shootin’, she’s here on doctor’s orders. Probably blew out a hip. She’s can’t even see your lens what with her bifocals all fogged up, but ya gotta dig her moxie. Who knew a woman of that age could squat like that?
Over there, by the juice bar. That’s Melton. He’s the janitor. Usually he mops up, but sometimes he just stops and stares like that. His bosses told him the news was coming and now he wants to give you an official tour of the mens locker room.
Check out the cat lady. The one wiping down that torture bench with a dishrag she fished out of her junk drawer. She’s…glistening. And oblivious to the social scene going on around her. You know, you don’t see many orange felt pajamas like that in the naked city.
That dude grunting like a pig over by the free weights is gonna bust a blood vessel. Either he’s showing off for us or his steroids prescription just ran out. Either way he’s good TV so get him before he passes out. Besdies, I haven’t seen wrestler pants like that since the Fall of ’87. Hey, is that a fanny-pack?
The Moms on the treadmills are on to us. Actually they been clocking our every move for the better part of The View. You can travel the galaxy and not find a creature less willing to be televised. And here you and your camera invade their only sanctuary. Quick, get the wide-angle lens!
Don’t look now, but that lady with the face is looking over here again. Her - on the elliptical. Yes, the one touching up her mascara . I don’t know how she stays up there either, but one thing’s for sure: She spent a half hour getting dressed for her work-out. Point the damn camera her way or she’ll follow us to lunch. Remember, we’re in a marked car!
Ooh, a clipboard. New member. Yep, anytime you see some track-suited no-neck totin’ a clipboard, you can bet there’s a ninety pound weakling following closely b-e-h-i-n-d … there! That Lord of the Rings t-shirt, those oddly knobby knees -- he’s clearly mortified to even be here. Let’s see if he’ll talk!
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