I quickly armored up because it was time for fight or flight.

The fight.

I got up at the crack of dawn to reserve my spot in 6:30pm spin class, because you know, doing the right thing and signing up for class is civilized, it’s acting out of integrity, and being respectful to others. Instead of say, forcing your way into a class you never signed up for.

I show up, 15 minutes early, only to find out that I was “accidentally” put on the 7:3o class list, not the 6:30 class as I had requested. *deep breath*

I tell the overweight girl at the desk that I will go ahead and grab a bike, because 1) NYSC made the mistake and placed me on the wrong list, and 2), as per her list, 8 people have not yet signed in.

It’s now 6:25, and, if you know their policy, bikes are open for all to grab because class is about to start. But, it didn’t go down like that. Oooooh no honey, it got dirty, real dirty.

While there are still 8 people that have not yet signed in, the class is already full. But the dumb girl can’t figure out the math, and I just don’t call her dumb because looked just so, I call her dumb I’m pretty sure she said “you isn’t on the list.” Who fucks up fundamental 2nd grade grammar?

It’s now 6:35, and we should be 5 minutes into class, but instead, NOW, not before class, NOW, they are doing roll call. There are 3 staff members tripping over each other like inefficient monkeys, unable to prove who’s signed up and who’s not.  I didn’t get up; I refused to because the woman next to me just confessed she never signed up for class!

The instructor—a short, ugly man who looks like he got his personal training certification while serving a prison sentence, tells me ” You gotta go. Give that bike up. So they made a mistake and put you on the wrong list. Mistakes happen. Get off that bike.” I’m not really scared, because what’s he going to do to me? In fact, with my swift, ninja like abilities him and his big, bald goon head did not stand a chance.

Side note: While all the bikes are taken, there are 6 people at the door waiting…because they signed up. I am no math major, but there are six people waiting, and with me giving up my bike that would create ONE available bike…where would the other FIVE come from?

To make a long story even longer, it’s now 6:40 and these New Yorkers are getting irate. The instructor tells me again in front of a whole room of strangers to “get out of my class“. Insulting to be spoken to like that? Sure, but you can overlook it when you realize he’s just a troll working his little minimum wage job because that job is only thing in his life that gives him a sense of power in his pathetic little life. How pitiful.

It’s now 6:42, he yells at me again. Suddenly, the instructor’s encouragement of aggression created an assemblage of aggression towards me, so much so that this woman suggested that the instructor call 911 to get me out of his class. Then, this blonde girl comes up and tells me it’s her bike. I ignore her, so she asks the instructor for his. This other woman chimes in, telling ME to leave and give up my bike so class can begin.

I waited, almost expecting a firing squad to enter and go to town,
Sean Bell style.

Now he starts class, but I have a feeling, it’s not going to end here.

In comes the big, bad wolf, the manager from the gym across the street, which I admit is impressive considering that nothing at NYSC gets done swiftly. I have had to go through an entire spin class more than once without towels, because they couldn’t get them over there just right now.

The irony here is that there were no towels, yet again, but in his haste show up to expel me from class (so he could give my one bike to the six people waiting), he didn’t even think to bring towels. Dang.

The manager beckons for me to come to him, but I insist that he comes to me because I am certain of two things:

1) that if he kicks me out of class that it would not end well, and believe me—harassing, berating, abusing and singling out a minority woman with no just cause, when, the white woman next to me has admitted to perpetrating an equivalent atrocity now makes it clear that I am being singled out; or

2) he would have to stand there and AGREE to cancel my membership with no penalties. He agreed. As I walked out, the instructor encouraged everyone to cheer and clap. And they did.

The manager and I walk next door where we chatted, where we cut all ties, no strings attached. But.

Wha?!?!

What the…? Am I..? Am I fucking…crying?!?!

I was crying. It was really really lame, which made me cry even more. I had fallen apart. Even though my membership was cancelled, I was not completely over it. I felt hurt and humiliated. I was angry. I thought the whole situation was so poorly handled—I mean, did he really come to the gym to ask me to leave after admitting they made a mistake and signed me up for the wrong class? Were they actually treating me like this in front of 24 people? Did the instructor really coerce his class to engage in hostile behavior towards a fellow gym member? Couldn’t they do this AFTER class, in a quiet office away from the other members?

Good leaders encourage unity and summon peace in times of controversy. Former prison yard gang members stir up violence. It now made sense.

But.

Still.

But still I felt strangely unfulfilled. Perhaps because since 2003 I’ve given NYSC about $10,000 to be a member of their facility. I’ve suffered through the dirty showers, the grimy carpets, the bad service, constant construction, the half hour wait for a machine. I’ve tolerated their over-weight, dimwitted trainers straight out of Rikers. I’ve put up with rude customer service and small cramped space that smells like Eau du Sulfur Spring. I took it people, I took it like a man.

But.

Then.

But then, tonight’s, shall we say incident, opened the door to enter to two spectacular, and I mean SPECTACULAR gyms, for the same price as I was paying for that dump. Top of the line gyms are offering “recession” prices—I am talking Equinox, the one where you book your bike online and pick the bike you want. Wow. You mean, no moron writing down your name in the wrong slot that causes you to get yelled at and thrown out of the gym?

The flight.

Even more exciting than my recurring fantasy of Hugh Jackman is the deal at New York Health and Racquet Club. Because of the building I live in, they will give me a year’s membership for $669. I mean, have you seen that roof deck and pool at their facilities? And towels. Glorious towels. Tons of them.

If you are ready to be treated with respect, take classes with fit, knowledgeable trainers, shower in clean immaculate surroundings, then I have a deal for you. Shoot me an email at sherika@justeatsmart.com and I will send you my contacts for these gyms, the kind of contacts that will offer you back door specials. You’ll be glad you did.

I normally don’t encourage comments, but I am this time! I would love to hear about your experience at New York Sport Club. Speak up, be heard. As a community, your experience and story can make a huge difference to someone considering joining that poor excuse of a gym and getting trapped in a one year commitment.