Security in this nation has never been tighter. Boarding an airplane requires passing through several armed checkpoints, military fighter jets circle over our major cities, and for their safety, the producers of the just-released Britney Spears movie "Crossroads" have been whisked away to an undisclosed location. But to me, the most notable increased security measure is the poster in the Alumni Gym declaring: "All Patrons Now Must Show an ID To Enter. No Exceptions."
I guess it's understandable that the College is interested in preventing unauthorized entry into our gym. With the entire country increasing security, it would be a real public relations nightmare if, for example, a terrorist gained access to one of our treadmills. But this new restriction still worries me. Why? Because I am perpetually playing a game of chicken with the gym staff members.
It all began in the fall of my freshman year. When I first started going to the gym, I would always dutifully give my ID card to the staff member on duty. But then I started noticing some of the regulars were walking right in without so much as a glance towards the check-in desk. So as not to seem like a wet-behind-the-ears gym rookie, I started doing the same. And boy did my life change. And by "change," I of course mean "stayed exactly the same," because no one cares about how I enter the gym. But it matters to me, because I've always liked working out, and I want to make it clear that I know what I am doing.
However, my bold entrances aside, I still don't quite fit in. I'm sure that students of a wide variety of physical statures use the Dartmouth gym, but it seems that whenever I decide to work out, I am surrounded by students who have a very specific body type. And by "have a very specific body type," I of course mean "have biceps the size of cantaloupes."
It's not that there is anything wrong with being strong, it's just really hard to feel good about yourself when you think it's probably reasonable to bench press "about 160 pounds," while the guy next to you thinks it's probably reasonable to bench press "a Buick LeSabre." Surrounded by these muscle-bound wonders, I feel like I'm working out some place where testosterone-fueled studs abound, like Miami Beach or perhaps Wellesley.
But I digress. The point I am trying to make is that I have become so used to walking straight into the gym, I don't know how to handle the new security. The plan I finally came up with is a little embarrassing to talk about, so if you are someone who admires me, and perhaps one day plans on hiring me or possibly giving me large tax-free sums of money, you should definitely stop reading this column right now.
OK, it looks like everyone is still here, so I'll go ahead with my embarrassing plan. Nowadays when I enter the gym I quickly and purposefully walk straight over to the cardio-machine sign-up sheet, proceed to scrutinize the perpetually-empty time-slot columns for the rowing machines for several seconds, give a meaningful sigh of disgust and then stride importantly over to a nearby piece of equipment, as if I just discovered a significant oversight that needs to be fixed immediately.
Desk Attendant: Excuse me, sir, can I see your ID?
Me: No time for that! I have just discovered from this sign-up sheet that there is a bomb planted on rowing machine number two that will explode in the next 20 seconds if I don't immediately enter the gym to fix it!
And of course, once I am safely behind the check-in desk, I can slink over to the dumbbell racks and begin my workout without ever being confronted by anyone about my ID.
Hmm you know, looking over what I just wrote, I realize how pathetic my plan sounds. Am I really so bothered by confrontation that I must use an elaborately unnecessary act of looking occupied whenever I enter the gym? This has gone too far! No longer will I allow my life to be ruled by the oppressive reign of the gym check-in procedure. From now on, when I want to work out I will put a smile on my face, hold my head high, brandish my ID proudly and stride confidently into the gym through the back door.
