Stinky Pete.

There was drama at my gym this morning.

Stinky, ripe, smelly drama.

While not directly involved, I did get to witness/hear about it.

Let's be honest - odours at a gym are not a new thing. Take an enclosed space where people are exerting themselves and you're going to get a bit of funk in the air.* That's why the girl behind the sign-in desk at my gym has a scented candle burning 24 hours a day. (At least I think that's why - she could be cooking Meth when I'm not looking.)

I will admit to having released some odours myself while on the treadmill - hence the reason I never eat oatmeal before I run - but overall, I'm confident that I smell okay.

Today's issue was B.O.

As in ripe B.O.

As in smell-you-from-across-the-room B.O.

It was THAT bad.

The guy who was the source was completely oblivious to it. Much like the people who work in sewers or live under port-a-potties, he was so used to the stench that he was seemingly unaffected by it.

And it wasn't that "I've been busting my ass benching 275 for 12's" sweat smell, it was the "I just got out of bed and always stink like this" smell.

He was foul before he even started sweating. I felt fortunate that he wasn't in my area, and that I still have a trace of my head cold hanging around.

The drama came when some of the other patrons started to take offense to the odours - and thus began the most passive-aggressive tactics I've seen in a while.

Instead of just saying "Hey Bud, little ripe this morning, don'tcha think?" and leaving it at that, you get people who drop weights and walk away when he was near, people who would gaze at the unopened window, people who would all of a sudden develop a itch in their nose, and an awful lot of coughing.

Wouldn't that give you the hint? Not this guy. He must have thought he was in a gym full of HADD people who had head colds.

There where a couple of people who were pretty upset and felt the need to complain to the girl behind the desk. I'm not sure what she was going to do about it, as it was time for me to leave, but I'm sure I'll hear all about it tomorrow.

Although knowing what I know now, tomorrow I'll have 3 layers of pit-stick on, and a Bounce sheet hanging out my shorts.

Just to be safe.

Later

*Note: this is not good funk, like George Clinton and Parliament, with some Bootsie Collins goin' on - this is nasty, stinky, should-have-bathed-in-Febreeze funk.