Johnny Law

Last night when I walked up to the door of my gym there were two guys waiting to get in. The first one slid his keycard through the slot, prompting a green light to come on. The lock released, and he swung the door open wide enough for me to catch the edge of it with my hand. The other guys stepped in first, and then I followed.

The moment we were all inside, the dude sitting behind the counter rolled up on us. The way he was standing told us that we had inadvertently crossed over some unknown DMZ.

     "Did each one of you slide your card!?"

We just sort of stood there, looking at each other.

He went on for like 2 minutes explaining the importance of the cards and the codes and who knows what. I'm not really sure why we even stuck around to hear the whole speech, especially since ours was a sin of courtesy -- but we stood there quietly, like little kids in a principal's office.

As we headed off, he made sure to give each one of us the eye.

They pump music into the main room from a CD player somewhere in the back office. When you work out that late, it's almost guaranteed that you'll be listening to songs from the private collection of the person who is working that night. It's not really a big deal to me one way or another what song is playing, but don't think I didn't crack a secret smile when the Third Eye Blind started skipping and a familiar angry voice in the back started shouting, "Shit, Shit, Shit!"

          Bad cop. No Creatine.