Tuesday, March 04, 2008

A Day at the Gym

I walk into the gym and I see a guy, an old guy, in the distance that I haven't seen for many, many months. He looks puffy. He is slumped over in the leg extension machine with his head down. I think nothing of it.

I go to the exercise bike and ride for 45 minutes. As I'm walking away, toward the water fountain, I notice that the guy is still in the leg extension machine. He still looks puffy. He isn't moving.

Has he not moved in 45 minutes? Is he OK? Should I alert somebody? Did he have a heart attack? I grow a little nervous. I don't remember him ever looking so puffy. Why isn't he moving?

Does this gym have a defibrillator? Should I start shouting for a doctor? Is this why he is puffy? Has nobody else noticed? Can a dead man just be at the gym for 45 minutes without anybody noticing?

I approach the man closer. He is still not moving. I decide I'm going to poke him, and I hope he doesn't fall out of the machine.

I am one foot from him. I'm about to jar him when his head pops up and he sighs. He still looks puffy.

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