One of the comments - that post had a record breaking FOUR, I'll have you know - read:
Yes, I've been waiting for this one. Thank you! So awesome that Lala girl is still in Lala land, and therefore so close by! We didn't hear about what you got up to in LA after leaving the cousins to themselves though..... ?? xoxo,BethDon't you love Beth? You do?! Me too.
Well Beth, I'd like to tell you the really dumb story of what I got up to in LA after leaving the cousins to themselves.
I had hemmed and hawed about stealing away to a hotel after dropping my girl off with C & B, but that proved to be too much trouble and I was wise to soak up the nighttime hours with those fine folks. I didn't want to just drive home, though. It was a fine Saturday and I had nowhere to be, so I thought about what I should do, noting with some regret that I was missing my usual Saturday morning gym session, which is one of my faves. I had my bag so looked up the gym finder to see what was close by, and lo... the very nearest gym offered The Trip.
It's just an IMAX spin class, but I'd heard it was fun and it's not available very many places, so I was psyched to checked it out. I tried and tried and tried to learn if and how and when I could go, but nothing electronic was working and I finally had to resort to calling The Guy. Ugh.
I learned that I had to make an online reservation, and would have to pay a fee to access this particular club since it's above my social status as far as gym memberships are concerned. I figured I'd saved several bucks by not getting hotelly the night before, so I'd suck it up. The Guy had told me that even if the class was full online, there were usually no shows. So when I attempted to sign in that morning and found the class full, I did not fret. I headed over early to make sure I would get a bike, and grabbed my bag to change and found daaaaaamn. I only had shorty shorts, and I didn't have my cycle shoes. I don't know about you, but I am not a fan of skin on saddle action at the gym. And I don't know about you, but spinning in street shoes is for chumps. You know what I did, right?
It was the fates, I tell you. There *was* a bike for me. The last bike. And I took a quick gander to find that there *was* a sports chalet less than a mile away. And I *was* an hour early. And I *am,* after all, me.
I won't drag you through the slippery slope of my rationalization, suffice it to say that I showed up for class in some very snazzy pants and clipped in to the very snazzy bike in the very snazzy windowless tomb of a room.
|It was really weird|
|I was chagrined to find it mostly spaceship shit, I thought it would be like a ride through the mountains|
|mountains! and lava fields. yikes|
|and outer space|
After class I decided to start the southbound drive and take the scenic route, stopping wherever I pleased for lunch and sun and whatnot. I walked my sweaty smelly self out of the dungeon, and smugly remembered that I had my overnight bag and toiletries in the car. As I headed to the door to go get it, I noticed a line of people waiting to be checked in - a shift change had occured and the front desk crew was on point. I thought I shouldn't push my luck, and should quit while I was winning at life. But I was really sweaty and fragrant. So I grabbed a few gym towels and took inventory of my bag, pleased to find those shorty shorts but no clean shirt. I got right into the shower in my quick dry togs, washed my sweaty tank with body soap from the dispenser, then dried it in the bathing suit wringer. I swaggered out of there and waved goodbye.
And that, dear Beth, is what I got up to in LA after leaving the cousins to their devices. Isn't that a dumb story?