Oh. My. Stars. Was tonight ever a real treat. After a long day on the ball, what I needed was a hot date with the gym so I set out for the 24 Hour down the road. I did my thing for a little while, then made my way to dessert: the sauna. Since my iPod died right before I started to lift weights, I was going commando... not like that was gonna be a big deal (unless someone thought they should start rubbing their sweatiness all over the place which is without a doubt the worst sound in the whole world... next to someone chewing their food like a cow).
When I walked in, I'm pretty sure the world stopped spinning for a split second. Sitting in front of me was a full house of sweaty, gray-haired middle-aged men. I felt like Augustus Gloop swimming in the chocolate river. The best part was that they all smooshed together to give me a seat in the corner, smack dab in the middle. Talk about being jazzed.
A couple guys down the row were deep in sweaty convo about Jamaica when I sat down, so naturally when I heard one of them say, "I didn't like it. There are a lot of poor people just trying to get your money and sell you drugs," I made my move. "You mean... you didn't buy any of their drugs?" And boom I was in. That got all of their attention which, let's be honest, who wouldn't want to be the center of attention in a room full of sweaty old men? It's every young entrepreneurial woman's dream, right? Make some jokes, get a job, get a sugar daddy, you know how it works.
Moving on...
Tom, the Chatty K, was a wealthy businessman who had just traveled to Rio de Janeiro. He and Chubs, an apple-bodied man the shade of chocolate pudding, dove deep into more sweaty convo about Rio, dancing the Samba and Brazilian babes. I strongly considered piping up about nude beaches, but bit my tongue like a lady. After getting a geographical lesson of Brazil, Tom's life story and a few deets on his love life (he now has a Brazilian ladyfriend), everyone awkwardly sighed into the silence and stared at each other's feet. (See: Rules in previous sauna entries--> never check out bizoobies, bellies or danger zones...).
A few minutes later, Tom and Chubs flew the coop with a couple of our quieter friends and I was left with one last friend. Somewhere in the conversation I dropped the N bomb (Nebraska) and this guy turned to me to show off his T-shirt that lovingly advertised Ogallala. We were instant besties. Unlike Tom, Mike wasn't an annoying chipmunk who filled every silence with an awkward joke. As it turns out, he's in the mental health field (cha-ching), so we spent the better part of my 30-minutes in the heater talking about nerdy psych stuff. OK, let me just point out that making friends in the sauna isn't actually an ideal place because you're sitting there sweating your ass off while trying to focus on what the other person is saying (not to mention what you're saying), but the heat is taking over and you end up just feeling like a melted candle. Eventually I announced that I was baked and drunkenly stood up to leave. It kind of reminded me of the time I went tanning after putting on heat lotion (which feels like your skin is on fire), then walking next door and blacking out in the bathroom of Juice Stop. Fantastic.
Once again, I can thank the sauna for fulfilling my life a little bit more.
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