Locker Room Talk
There is a group of older men who always file into the locker room right as I am getting ready to leave the YMCA. I swim there three days a week. They play racquetball. They come in wearing their white kneepads and white sweatbands, and they too are very white. They move slowly to disrobe in front of each other en route to the showers.
I mostly mind my business, rubbing lotion on my face because the pool is set to their senior counterparts' preferred temperature of 85 degrees and soupy. As they dawdle around, I am occasionally tempted to engage them as they spew Fox News propaganda as if Tucker Carlson had any resemblance to a textbook or otherwise credible source, but mostly the men stick to talking about sports and money.
I've started taking notes, though I'm not quite sure why. Half of me mourns the mundane nature of their banter, half of me wishes I too found life to be so simple. Fully, however, I admire their friendship.
Overheard in the YMCA Locker Room
How 'bout them Dukies?
I don’t think my wife wants me around that much.
He’s 6’3 and 220. I wouldn’t trade him for my life.
He’ll learn. He’s got to take a couple big hits, but he’ll learn.
Sorry, did you say Louisville?
How are you living, Donnie?
Hey there, how's it going? (x10)
I missed you guys! I’ve been out for months but I’m slowly coming back to life.
Someone should write a PhD on the evolution of shaving. About as relevant as what the damn academics are studying today!
How am I? Well, I'm vertical, so that's a start.
Lowe’s is going downhill. It’s such a boutique nowadays.
How you doing, doc?
What do you say, Tom?
After the Christmas party, she just stopped and fell — dead.
That’s what happened to my mother in law. Died in the kitchen. She'd just come back from the store.
I have undergone a change in my physiology. I can now stomach York Peppermint Patties.
That’s providence right there.
That’s why we have 3 separate branches of government.
I am so glad I didn't grow up in the age of Fortnight.