Dance Class, Theory, Practice

My gym has this deal for the 22nd of every month - "member appreciation" which means a) free guest passes and b) free breakfast, but there's pretty much no way that I'm ever at the gym in time for that. This month, they got kind of smart about the chronic overcrowding in dance classes - which is only heightened by visitors - and did a 2 hour block of bhangra and zumba on the basketball court. The dudes who come for the hoops were none too pleased, since they clearly failed to notice the 10 signs posted around the gym saying that there would be no basketball on Wednesday evening. I did the exact same thing with the signs about the water being shut off on Tuesday in my building, so I sympathize. Anyway - when it became evident that they weren't going to get what they wanted, a couple of them (who must have been about 18) joined the class - giggling. They even stuck around for the second hour. Anyway - as an experience, it was half horrible 7th grade gym flashback (what with the non-basketball on a basketball court) and the snickering girl who works in the membership office and stayed to watch for most of the first hour, drinking coffee through a straw (I'm pretty sure she was there to laugh at the other staffers but really - how unnecessary) and the poorly ventilated room (clearly not designed for the body heat generated by maybe 100 people dancing) and half almost-fulfillment of my long-standing fantasy of walking into the last scene of a dance movie. Also - probably the most diverse gym class I've ever been to - sure, still mostly women, but more than a token few dudes, and among the women, a real range in both age and race. It even supplied an answer to a question I've long-wondered - what do hipsters do for exercise clothes (because some hipsters, clearly, must exercise)? Answer: American apparel leotards and leggings, with yellow running shorts over them. Half-ironic, but the 70s-style leotard pattern was far too flattering and enviable to have been purchased for the its retro-appeal/statement on the ridiculosity of the gym as plebeian institution alone.

I'm writing this on the bus to New York. And that's almost completely amazing and fantastic, except that balancing a laptop on one's knee at 65 mph is a challenge both to the combined forces of heels of my hands/top of my lap and my digestive system. It's way better this time - the first time I took this particular bus, I had my old computer, which managed to freeze 20 minutes into the trip, never to fully recover - but still - if there's one thing that enhances the bumpiness and vague sense of lack of control that goes with the average bus, it's trying to balance an expensive piece of electronic equipment on your knees while also coming up with coherent sentences about a moment of large-group grace and coordination.