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Thursday, October 30, 2008

Namastoli

So, just in time for my entrance to the neighborhood, the Yoga District in Bloomingdale opened this weekend. Not a hard opening, but a soft one. That means that this week, all of the classes are free! Which means, all of the classes are crowded. And lots of random, non-yoga types join in the fun. Which is wonderful! And, chaotic. And... drunk? 

I'm going to skip the gingerly phrasing and just say that a neighborhood drunk was standing outside, watching all the yuppies roll out their mats and take off their shoes. He decided to ask the instructor what was going on. 

Neighborhood Drunk: What's this? 
Spritely Yoga Instructor: It's a yoga class. (this part actually went on for a few more rounds, but I'll spare you the back and forth.)
Neighborhood Drunk: What's yoga?
Spritely Yoga Instructor: It's exercise, and stretching, and relaxation and meditation... do you want to come in?  
Neighborhood Drunk: (silence, suspicious glaring)
Spritely Yoga Instructor: The classes are free this week.
Neighborhood Drunk: (silence, suspicious glaring).... OK
Spritely Yoga Instructor: Come on in, take off your coat... and your shoes and stuff. 
Neighborhood Drunk: (silence, suspicious glaring)

So, ND comes in (hell, it was really cold last night, it was probably a very good call on his part), throws his parka and his hat in the corner. Looks around, takes off his shoes. Gets a mat, puts it down right in front of me. Takes off his socks. When the staff passed out the blocks and blankets, he thought sweet! Place to sleep!, and laid down and covered himself up. He didn't just nap through class though. He put in a better effort at actually doing yoga than I thought he would. With each stretch, I was hit in the face with the wafting scent of vodka, but hey, at least he was doing something. It was sort of like a muppet doing yoga -- just generally putting his limbs in the same area that we were supposed to without actually doing the stretches. Or just sitting down if it got too weird. We did one stretch towards the end where we put our hand on our opposite ear to stretch out our necks, and he just sort of hugged his head and I imagine that he was thinking, this is so not worth the blanket. 

I wish there were a funnier end to this story... like he passed out during the relaxation at the end, or lost it and took a swing at the instructor when she came around rubbing people's shoulders, or tried to drink the peppermint oil. Alas, he just gathered his parka, and his stinky socks, and his big hat, and carried on. I can only assume I'll be seeing him in class a few times a week. 

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