I think I’ve mentioned it before, but I work part time at a bar on Freemont Street (*warning: this link has dumb and loud music). The tips are good, the atmosphere is fun, and I like getting out of the house. There’s always some sort of hilarity that ensues. Novabella works there too. Sometimes we don’t get home until three or four in the morning. Over the last few months, on the way home, we’ve been stopping off at 24 Hour Fitness to take a shower and sit in the whirlpool for fifteen minutes to ramp down so we can sleep. During the course of the night, we drink quite a bit of Red Bull, the bubbling hot water takes every trace of cigarette smoke and spilled drinks out of your pores, and seems to cut out the speedy and frantic effects of the energy drinks. At four in the morning, we pretty much have the place to ourselves, except for the maintenance guys.
And that’s where the story starts….the maintenance guys. On this particular night (I think this happened on Wednesday) there were two of them. They were hispanic, and didn’t speak, or pretended not to speak any English. While we were soaking, they seemed to find any excuse to walk around the hot tub, fiddle with things and carry equipment to and from the maintenance closet which just happened to be right next to us. It was a little irritating, but I get it. They weren’t leering and perverted, but were interested to see the spectacle of the girls in bikinis with raccoon makeup. It seemed fourth grade, giggly and harmless.
When we were done, we went into the locker room. I decided to take a shower and Nova went to get dressed. When I was done, I walked out of the stall to the hooks on the wall to get my towel. I grabbed it, and before I could totally wrap it around myself, I noticed the two maintenance guys were standing at the door watching me. I yelled, “Excuse me!”. They didn’t move. They just stood there, one holding a mop, and one with a running hose. I walked away toward the lockers. Still their manner still wasn’t threatening, and they seemed like dumb, inexperienced schoolboys. Although, when I put it in writing, it sounds worse. Nova and I talked about it, and decided that if we were going to say something to someone it would have to be the next day since no one was around.
Thursday at three am, we walked into 24 Hour Fitness and swiped our member cards. The guy at the desk that was always there, was there. He’s a pretty nice kid, about 23. He always seems like, or maybe he has, just smoked a joint. Whenever we come in, he says, “Heeeeyyyyyy guys”, in a very Spicoli (*warning: another loud link) manner. We stand at the desk and discuss if we should say something. We tell “Spicoli” what happened. We tell him that we don’t want anyone fired, but to please talk with them. Spicoli says, “I’m cracking skulls”. I tell him that cracking is on the severe side, but if he wanted to shake them a little, that would be okay.
When we came out of the whirlpool, there was a yellow plastic sign warning of men in the women’s locker room. One of the “offenders” was cleaning the sinks when we walked in. We told him we needed “deis minutos” to get dressed. He replied in Spanish. We told him “no comprendo” and repeated “deiz minutos” and I jerked my thumb towards the exit. He replied with another paragraph of Spanish, pretending not to understand so he could stand around talking to the chicas in bikinis. He finally left.
We’re leaving for work in a half an hour. We’ll see what happens tonight.