All summer, my city is offering free workouts at parks on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. The schedule is on the refridge® at work and torments me daily. "I really should be doing these," I think, as I head for the pudding inside the refridge.
A few weeks ago, I went to Tai Chi in the park with a coworker who is actually not named Alex. Let's call her Fleeta, which I did not just find in the random name generator or anything. "Hey, Fleeta," I asked her yesterday while she toiled at her desk. "You working out tonight?"
"I'm not sure, June," she said, never looking up from her work. "You asked me last week, and I said yes, and you never showed up."
"Yes. You asked me twice. I went there and you were never there."
Last Tuesday is when Alex 420349393 came over and we did yoga after she couldn't find the workout locale in the park. I must have also asked Fleeta if she was doing that workout in the park, too, then forgot. Honestly, what is wrong with me? "Did I really ask you twice?" I asked Fleeta. She sighed and continued with her work. Fleeta abhors me. Imagine how delighted she'll be when she finds out I'm calling her Fleeta.
"So, you going tonight?"
At 5:00, another Alex was leaving work. Let's call her Alex 5. "Hey, Alex 5, you wanna go to the workout in the park? Tonight it's Zumba!" I'm afraid I did a little Zumba-ish dance, at least what I ASSUMED would be Zumba, as I'd never gone.
Alex 5 looked at me for a long time. "I was trying to think of some reason why I can't, but I guess I can't think of any," she said.
I am super-popular at work.
She had workout clothes with her, so we just went to my house to change. You know, last week, Alex 420349393 came over to do yoga at the last minute, and she had her own yoga mat at the ready. Is this generation just prepared for anything? Had I asked Alex 5 to go ballroom dancing with me, would she have pulled out her burgundy taffeta?
"Let's hunt for grouse!" "Oh, sure! Let me whip out my orange vest."
Before we left, we did a search online for just where in the hell this particular workout was. Because the thing on the refridge was confusing. "At the trailhead!" it enthuses. Yeah, thanks. That narrows it down. When we went online, they called it The Trailhead and Under the Bridge and kind of on Spring Garden and kind of on this one other street and over yonder by the trail, there.
Finally, we decided we knew where it was and wrote down directions. I didn't want to use the work printer for personal use, as I am a scaredy cat about breaking the rules.
When we got to my house, I realized I'd left the directions at work. Son of a...We went online again, read, "At the trailhead!" Got annoyed anew, figured everything out and wrote it down. Then we got in the car, all Zumba-attired out.
The thing is, Alex 5 and I got to talking about our weekend and we missed the turn. Mostly because our directions said, "Turn left on Spring Garden" but the only thing present on the road was an arrow saying "Spring Garden this way" all the way on the right. So we drove on, looking for a place to turn around, and suddenly we were on the highway headed to Charlotte.
Son of a...
We finally turned around and got back downtown, and drove around till we saw anything familiar again, and finally got back where we were and got in the right lane in order to turn left on Spring Garden, which we did and then?
There it was! You know? It was at the trailhead!
"Where do we park?" we wondered. At this point, class had started three minutes prior, but we were still determined to go. "We're just missing the instructions on how to do Zumba without breaking our necks," Alex 5 assured me. And who needs that?
Finally we parked. And got out of the car. A woman approached us. "Is this where we do Zumba?" she asked us. We said we sure thought so. She walked away, dazed. "She thinks we look like Zumba experts," said Alex 5, proudly. Yes, clearly we were Charo and Shakira, over here.
A large group of people headed toward us.
"Zumba's canceled," they all said.
How fervently do you pray that I find another punchline song some day?
The town criers who told us about class also said they were just gonna walk the trail, instead, so Alex 5 and I joined them. And by "joined" I mean we sort of creepily walked behind them and judged their tattoos. But the trail was really sort of lovely, and it was probably two miles or so. Which completely justifies the fishsticks I had for dinner.
Tonight? It's belly dancing with Faun Finley! I should totally have called Not Alex "Faun Finley."
(c)2014, Ned Nickerson. The term "refridge" and all its ridiculousness property of Ned Nickerson, Greensboro, NC. Any uses, mentions, or likenesses of the word "refridge" are to be credited to Ned, because it is the stupidest word invented.