What’s that they say on The Real World – something about when seven strangers stop being polite and start being real? That about sums up my experience last week.
Seven of us shared a vendor booth (a first for me. I’m usually a conference attendee and most likely the one really wiggly attendee shifting around in her chair, trying not to fall asleep. Not because it’s rude to sleep through exhilarating classes on budget or market projections – well, yeah, that too - but because I’m likely to wake up covered in drool. That’s me. Class act).
Anyway, spending eight hours together trapped on a 12×12 piece of blue carpet will get folks acquainted pretty quickly and let’s not kid ourselves – I’ve been sharing overly personal information with strangers for YEARS now. Being inappropriate is my super power.
At one point, we were discussing workout equipment (Precor was also a vendor and they had some crazy complicated machinery on display) and one of the architects mentioned how he just can’t bring himself to climb on one of those things and stare at the wall for an hour.
“Gah, me either,” I said. “The only indoor thing I can stand is hot yoga, and that’s not so tempting when it’s 110 outside. Neither is jogging – the other thing I don’t hate.”
He nodded. He’s from Arizona. He gets it.
“I think I gain twenty pounds every summer just because it’s too stupid hot to do anything.”
At this point, one of the East Coast architects, a brusque, uncensored fellow whose charm was not as lost on me, but who most certainly needed someone with a bit of New York in her blood to appreciate, looked up from his laptop,
“You gain twenty pounds every summer?” The look on his face could only be described as complete horror. “I’d kill myself!”
I can’t remember what I said in response. I probably just shrugged because honestly, I’m over it. It gets hot, I get lazy. Fall comes, I trim up. Lather, rinse, repeat. That’s just how it is and I’m not going to beat myself up over it. I know. Look at me being so zen!
Conversation moved on, but as soon as that fellow left the magic blue square, the rest of us did a recap.
“Did he really just say he’d kill himself?” One of my new Midwest friends wasn’t sure he’d heard right.
“Wait, he said that?” Another warm body had just joined the blue square.
“Yes!” I was having a genuine, deep from the (rather untoned) belly laugh over it. “He’s really lucky that I’m not the sensitive type!”
“I think I’m offended for you. Architects say the darndest things, huh?”
By this point we were laughing so hard I was afraid that it was not going to be one of those afternoons I could claim ‘not peeing on myself‘ as one of the day’s accomplishments. Like I said, class act.
Oh man. You are so right about that “magic blue square” inexplicably bringing several people closer after a few long days in a convention center. At one conference, a 60 year old client of mine stepped into our 10×10 ft “magic blue square” and then proceeded to tell me all about his Match.com dates complete with horrific details. I kid you not, I will never be able to look at senior citizens the same way ever again.
-Q
I just got into hot yoga myself. I am amazed at how widespread it is. I’m fascinated you are a part of the community.
What a douche. If it makes you feel better my hair dresser told me I needed to lose 25 lbs – (which I don’t). This from a man who has a pot belly, wears brightly coloured bow ties and has a jheri curl in 2010. Which is exactly what I told him. By the way, I’m doing Bikram Yoga in the summer to cope with the heat and improve my running. It totally is better than last summer when I stopped running all together and decided to withdraw from the fall marathon I was training for. Give it a go…or just enjoy being lazy!