Driving to do some errands tonight I was annoyed at one stoplight by the car behind me weaving around, pulling up in the non-lane next to me, and then speeding ahead of me as soon as the light thought about turning green, leaving me to contemplate it’s sporty back side (complete with words, which I never did get around to reading, decalled onto the rear windshield).

“Stupid car,” I thought, “But whatever.”

I went to the co-op for milk, and then drove the couple blocks to the other grocery store in town (because the co-op doesn’t sell regular old fruit juice). But as I got out and locked my car, screeching tires made me look up and jump out of the way as THAT CAR careened into a space across from me.

“Man,” I thought, “That guy’s going to kill one of these little old ladies or the little old men onto whose arms the little old ladies are clinging.” (Ok, I admit, when I’m thinking in my head I don’t worry that much about keeping prepositions away from periods, but you get the idea.) (And yes, there were more little old couples than usual this evening, probably because after today we’re heading into a stretch of “dangerously cold” weather the like of which hasn’t been seen in this state in 3 years.)

I wasn’t in the store long. I just had to pick up juice. And soon I was handing money to the cashier, taking my change, and … the guy behind me was so eager to move into the check-writing spot by the cashier that he accidentally (I hope) kicked the bottom of my foot as I moved away!

Now, I’ve had a pretty bad day, with only a couple of hours of un-bad-ness in the late afternoon, so I admit that I gave him a withering “that was un-called-for” look before going out to my car. He never saw me look at him. Seconds later, the offending guy (dressed to the nines, I might add) emerged from the store and hopped into his sporty little car, complete with white lettering (which I still hadn’t read) decalled across the rear windshield.

A gym has it’s own culture. People are expected to keep their eyes forward and somewhat unfocused lest they appear to notice that they aren’t the only ones in the gym. The first unforgivable sin is to actually see the people around you.

There are other rules, though. There’s a veritable caste system of fitness. Those who are fit are practically required to wear as little as possible because everyone else will be inspired by their flat abs and toned extremities. Those who are less fit should never wear this type of revealing clothing lest they frighten away newcomers to the gym. Baggy t-shirts and sweats are pretty much par for the course.

Of course, fit people can also wear baggy t-shirts and sweats as long as they roll the sleeves up to their shoulders and carry around specialized equipment (such as back braces or elastic straps) that clearly marks them as highly fit. It is also acceptable for fit people to wear baggy clothing if they customize all the equipment they touch, moving benches from one machine to another or adding extra weights to the standard equipment.

This evening, as I did my best to torture myself into a sweat while wallowing in an over sized t-shirt and sweats (though not customizing anything, or carrying any specialized equipment), I committed the unforgivable sin. I kept glancing at the guy on the elliptical next to me.

No, it’s not what you’re thinking. Nothing even remotely close. No, this guy was… unique. His loafers cushioned his argyle-socked feet. Both of these complemented his chocolate brown, pleated, belted, corduroy pants and white button-down shirt. The yamaka, with it’s gold and tan embroidery, topped off the look to perfection.

I’m not sure where this fits in the gym hierarchy.