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Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Hotel gym

I went downstairs bleary-eyed, to raise my heartbeat and sweat away last night's dinner. The machine was so old and feeble I felt like a medieval giant, stomping out villages and shaking the ground with each tremendous step.

The middle-aged Asian couple who preceded me looked questioning, apparently bewildered by my fugitive hair and Neil Diamond t-shirt.
I closed my eyes and stomped, stomped, stomped until neither I nor the machine could take any more.


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