I left a lot of things in Orange County: my aggrevated driving, my stellar tan, and my beautiful refridgerator. One thing I did not turn my back on was my gym-rat status, though. Holy elliptical, I love fitness centers! However, after spending a few days at the local YMCA, I have realized something I never knew possible: I can tell I’m in a different part of the state simply by locker room behavior.
It’s a little insane.
The first thing I noticed about the Y was that lacking clothing in the single-sex hot tub and steam rooms wasn’t limited to the one person everyone avoids eye-contact with. In fact, everyone who enjoys these facilities goes in nude. In Orange County, we were suits only sorts of ladies. Interesting.
Second, locker room benches are for sissies. All cool ladies spread their towels out and plop (naked) on the floor. I know, right? So different. The amount of modesty exhibited in the locker rooms is paltry at best, which is both intimidating and liberating.
Third, the mysterious men’s locker room is even full of surprises. My male Y friend told me how just today he witnessed a seven-foot tall geriatric man fresh out of the shower, busy using the community hair-dryers to heat his crack. (No, not the drug. The body part that has no other fancy name.)
I never imagined that locker rooms all over the state could exhibit such unique cultural behavior, but apparently, I was incredibly wrong. The sociologist in me is fascinated; the Orange County-minded person in me is baffled.
For so many reasons, it’s good to be back!