Today I heard a really funny story from a friend, and I’d like to share it with you all.  My friend actually wrote the entire thing out for me, and I hope you enjoy!

“I’ve begun morning yoga in the drawing studio here at the school of art.  I didn’t bring a mat with me, but after using nothing but a towel for the first couple of days, I’ve been joined by a friend who has two mats, and yoga has gotten much better.  But I really wanted a mat of my own, and I knew just where to get one.

Up the hill from our dormitories is a small gym that I used to frequent two summers ago for the occasional workout.  I remembered a stack of yoga mats and I set my mind to borrowing one for the summer.

There’s only one way into the gym, and the walkway is guarded by a green-shirted staffer wielding a laser gun to scan your gate pass.  Getting in was no problem, of course, thanks to my gate pass.  I smiled at the attendant, he scanned my card, and I made my way inside, down the hall, and into the gym.  I signed in at the clipboard, smiled at the guys working the desk, and headed in to the main weight room.  I cast about a bit, not really wanting to be at the gym but having decided to get in something of a workout before making off with the yoga mat.  Eventually I planted myself on an exercise bike and began a fifteen minute ‘heartrate’ workout.  I chose level 12 (out of 20), but quickly ratcheted down to eight.  I looked around at the scattering of bros lifting weights to my left and the white-haired man shooting hoops to my right and thought about how hot and stuffy it was in the gym and how if my bike were fixed I could be outside doing the same thing.

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I spent Sunday afternoon at Heinz Beach, one of the Chautauqua Institution’s three main swimming spots on the lake.  It’s not much of a beach really, with nothing more than a grass lawn sloping down to the murky water and a narrow dock extending out to a buoy-encircled swimming area.  But it does provide the two essential components of a beach: water that gets you wet, and land to get you warm under the sun.  On my Sunday at the beach, I had my chair stolen twice.

I had spotted an old rubber folding recliner on one of the dock’s outcroppings, and, seeing it unused, set it up on the lawn and kicked back in comfort.  After about twenty minutes of reclining, a young man approached and politely informed me that I was sitting in his mother’s chair.  Naturally, I was overly friendly and apologetic and as he took the chair back to the dock, I planted myself awkwardly on my towel and felt much less comfortable than before.

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