So Anders and I decided to take a step aerobics class after work tonight. And though I haven't taken a class in a couple years, I've logged more hours in aerobics classes over my life than most Republicans have spent convincing themselves that "hate the sin, love the sinner" is a logical way to think. So I was kind of excited to get back into the groove, as it were.
By the time Anders and I got there, the class was so full there were only a couple spots left for our step benches: way in the front or way in the back. I was tempted to take a prominent spot in the front because, hey, I've taken tons of classes before. And hey, I'm a dancer. Hell -- right now, I'm a choreographer. I can rock no matter where I stand in class. Right?
For some reason, we decided to stay in the back. And about five minutes into class, I was profoundly thankful. First of all, it's a pretty advanced class, so the combinations came at us quickly and complicatedly. And second, the class is full of regulars who already know the combinations -- or at least the instructor's basic vocabulary.
So for about 15 minutes I kept up. And then my brain reached critical absorption. And then my crappy new deodorant gave out. So for the last 35 minutes or so I was that stinky clueless guy who just takes up valuable space on the gym floor.
But a little humiliation now and then can keep you grounded. I am, however, going to head to Sidetrack tonight so I can belt out show tunes loudly and clearly so everyone can admire how I know all the words. And most of the harmonies.