I won’t say I browbeat Jim into joining the gym with me — let’s just say I suggested it would be a fun way to hang out together in between road trips. And seriously, we could both use some structured strength-training. So yesterday Jim signed on.
His “concierge” thought he might like the Senior Conditioning & Stretching Class today at 10:15. Jim had no idea what that meant, so what the heck, we traipsed down to Henrietta this morning.
We arrived to the aerobics room amid a flurry of setting up giant balls on overturned exercise steps (2 each). The someone handed us each a pair of drumsticks. The music started and suddenly we were trying to follow the clickety-clackety up-down slide-grapevine movements of the instructor.
Wait a minute… What the…??? Although the 10 participants were all pretty old, it was obvious this was not right place. The compliant school-girl in me thought maybe this’ll be fine as I projected out the disruption-embarrassment of rolling our balls back into the closet, etc.
But Jim was having none of it. “This isn’t right!” he kept stage-whispering. Then, “I’m going out to see what the deal is!” He left. After a minute I trotted after him, leaving my paraphernalia in place. If Jim wasn’t mortified, then neither was I.
Turned out that the Seniors were in a room we hadn’t known about downstairs. We barged in 20 minutes late. The 10 ladies there immediately welcomed us as being in the right place (I wonder how they guessed) and happily ran around getting us set up and oriented. They thought it was hilarious that we had wound up in the Drums Alive! class.
As I started my shoulder stretches, I thought that our morning was just another metaphor for our travels together: agreeing to a new experience, finding ourselves somewhere unexpected, then relying on our wits (or half-wit + half-wit) and the kindness of strangers.