Mister Hogpants

Let me begin by saying that I consider myself a VERY nice person. I love talking to people, and making new friends. 
However...

People. 

People are often at the root of my problems. I can't stand rudeness, the lack of common courtesy to others. This combined with not respecting the rules of the gym was the bane of my existence tonight.

I decided to watch The Mortal Instruments, the movie adaption of one of my favorite book series. I was severely disappointed; I mean, the director took out almost every single good part in the book, down played the vital plot twists, and made up absurd details. UGH. So, with built up frustration, I headed to the gym. This is my vice, my stress relief. I can sweat out my disgust for this movie through cardio and pumping some good old-fashioned iron. 

The gym at my apartment complex is... well, let's just say it's lacking. It has the bare, and I mean bare, necessities. But it's free, so I take what I can get. I got done with 50 minutes of cardio (yeah, that's how frustrated I was about a movie. Don't judge me.), and was ready to use the cable and pulley machine, but it was occupied by a tall young gent in flip flops. SCREECH. FLIP FLOPS?! I internally cringed. But wait there's more! He was standing in the middle of the machine on his phone. 

I kept my cool. Surprising, I know. 

But... I decided to work with the dumbbells until flip flop guy was done. I did every arm exercise I could do, but my back was screaming to be worked out. And I needed THAT machine to do it. Finally flip flop guy moves. I glide over to the machine and get it all adjusted. When who do you think approaches me? Flip flop guy. 

"Um, 'scuse mi" he says in a very foreign accent. "I was not feeneeshed."

I blink. "What?"

"Cuud yew wait unteel I aim feeneeshed? I need deese macheene." 

"Ummmm, well, you were on your phone AND you moved, so I kind of assumed you were done." 

"No, no, just a leetle bit more time."

Grrrrr. Fine. I slid away. But I watched him. I watched as he sat back down, pulled his phone out, and STARTED TEXTING ON THE MACHINE. That did not go over well at all. I go grab some dumbbells, and I do some squat/overhead press combinations right next to him. Looking at him the entire time. 

He was not phased. 

I am small. But trust me, my looks can send chills down your spine. He was getting every "You are a thorn in my side" look I could muster. He did one exercise. Then he got right back on his phone. I couldn't take it any more.

"Look, buddy," I say. "I want to finish working out. I need this machine. I am incredibly frustrated right now; the book I love was destroyed by a director who didn't know what he was doing, and I wanted to work arms and back tonight to burn off the let down. You are not using the machine CLEARLY, so here's what needs to happen. You, sir, either need to work out or MOVE OFF THE MACHINE." 

He blinked. He was trying to process this little, five-foot girl scolding him for being Mister Hogpants at our tiny gym. He processed it. 

"I go." 

And he moved on to the dumbbells. 

So... take this as a lesson, folks. Don't be a hog at the gym. And please, don't do curls in the squat rack either. :)