This week, I had dance team practice at the rec center.  I've always been particularly fascinated by the whole "gym" scene.  It's a place where total strangers come together, and often do not speak a word to each other, but communicate through universal gym-etiquette.  The gym is great place to people watch, and I actually find it hilarious.

First you notice that the guy next to you is sweating bullets. Out of the corner of your eye, trying not to be creepy, you see he has been on his machine for over an hour.  It's no lie.  His B.O confirms it.

On your other side is a normal looking college girl.  Wrong. Five minutes into your cardio session, you notice that this competitive perfectionist keeps speeding up her tempo so that it's slightly faster than yours.  Then, maybe it's your imagination, but you're pretty sure that she keeps trying to look at how many calories you have burned and how many miles you have gone.  You're tempted to look her in the eye and say, "You wanna race? It's on."

Then you notice the girl who has never been athletic but she is at the gym to work her ass off, literally.  You can easily identify this type because you see her every time you go to the gym, and every time she is wearing the exact same pajama bottoms and baggy t-shirt.  You go girl.

Then you glance back and notice a man on a stationary bike.  Now, this might not seem out of the ordinary, except there's something peculiar about his eyes. They are not watching the TV above you, nor are they reading a magazine, nor are they simply glancing around, but oh yes, they are glued to your butt.  You can even see this pervert in the reflection of the TV, and it is now quite obvious why he is in the cardio area a.k.a. girl territory.  This is a good excuse to end your cardio session early, and head over to the weight-lifting machines.

Over in the weight lifting section, you see a multitude of beasts.  That's right, beasts.  Men and women alike, lifting weights, getting buff, building muscle.  Face it, they're all jacked. Sometimes, the only way to distinguish the women is by locating the sports bra strap.  The men are often just sitting around half of the time, flexing in the mirror, and making disgusting faces during reps.

This night of entertainment at the gym has made you thoroughly exhausted, and you decide to head home... of course, after a pit stop at Wawa for some Ben & Jerry's.  Hey, you deserve it.