Switch gyms?

Since I doubted very much that my gym was open today, I decided to go to one of the places here in Beautiful Downtown Jersey City. I was headed to Synergy, the folks that have put countless annoying promotional flyers under my windshield wipers over the years that I've lived here, but then saw Gold Coast.

Huh.

Frequently my morning walk to the PATH train was enlivened by seeing one of the trainers from Gold Coast--with a back I would pay money to whip--heading out to get himself some morning coffee. Or a proteinaceous smoothie. Or whatever.

I decided to give it a try. In lieu of a day-pass, I was given a five day trial membership for free. Can't beat that.

And it was a great gym!

FACT: They were blasting Staind on the sound system. Great workout music. I didn't need to fire up my iPod.

FACT: The place was practically deserted, whereas my gym in Chelsea would have been a mob scene at this time on a Friday.

FACT: Impossible but true: seemed to be a predominately heterosexual gym where serious body builders go to lift, but everybody was re-racking the weights!

FACT: They had a good set up, and alll the equipment that I need was right there. No traveling involved.

FACT: The locker room and shower area was really seedy looking. If I were shooting a porn movie, I would definitely consider that for a location.

FACT: The trainers both had really good bodies. They were working out themselves. They're serious about this shit.

SURMISE: I think the mirrors are flawed so as to make you appear wider than you actually are. Thus, I looked damn good.

FACT: It's $99 to join, and $56/month. This means that I'd save $30 a month. Well... actuall $22 if you spread the $99 out over a twelve month period.

FACT: They sold protein drinks right there in the gym.

FACT: I'd go more if I didn't have to cross the river.


So. Should I or shouldn't I? What would it mean if Jersey City was also the place where I went to the gym in addition to being the place where I slept and kept my dungeon/den? What if going to the gym meant walking five blocks instead of paying $6, fighting traffic at the Holland Tunnel, and spending forty-five minutes parking.

Okay. Let's not do anything rash. Go there for the next five days at different times of day, and see what it's like. And, maybe stop in at the two other gyms on Newark Avenue, see if you like any of those a little bit better.

In truth, what I really liked about this gym was that it reminded me of the place on Fourth Avenue where I used to go, that was run by Nicole Bass and her husband Bob. To my mind, this was the platonic ideal of gym. Everybody there was way serious about lifting. And, there was the Bob and Nicole show to keep things interesting. They tolerated no assholes or breaches in gym etiquette. ("Yo meathead! You're gonna put that dumbbell back where you got it, right?") And, Bob and Nicole were always happy to offer a word of encouragement. ("Hey Glamour Puss! Are you paying me all this money to come here and lift weights or to look at yourself in the mirror? Let's see another set pronto!") It was a gym where everybody was always offering to spot you. Think of the solicitudes of twenty muscle-bound Chips 'n' Dales. It was cruisy, but in a friendly way. And the straight guys there liked the fact that you liked their bodies and didn't seem to mind when you would offer a "Nice ass, Buddy. Glutes! I mean, nice glutes!" And it was so cool to see Bob and Nicole work out together. Equals in all things. Never shy. I don't doubt that they were as sweet and sassy when they were injecting each other with steroids as they were when they would kiss each other hello.

Maybe I'll switch gyms. Make Beautiful Downtown Jersey City a little bit more of my home. I wonder if My Cop goes to a gym here in the hood?

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