Tom Cruise and my 'Highway to the Danger Zone'

So, I'm in the gym locker room today post work-out and I find myself sort of humming along to the canned satellite radio station and mutter to myself "you know, I've always liked this song," and suddenly realized three things.

1. The man standing next to me is naked.*
2. The song is 'Lovefool' by the Cardigans.
3. I'm not doing all that well on the clothing front, myself.

Love me. Love me. Say that you love me. Hello, uncomfortable eye contact.

Which takes me back to the funniest men's bathroom moment I've ever had. Fox and the Hound. King of Prussia.

I have total shy bladder syndrome. I pee in maybe five urinals a year. In good years, fewer. I go into the bathroom and someone is already in the stall so I risk a stand-up. I look furtively around. Coast is clear...go! Waiting, waiting, damn you pee! I know you want to come out of there, look at the nice blue urinal cake...and someone comes through the door. There are only two urinals, he hesitates, and takes one.

Now, I can tell he has the syndrome too. We both stand there shoulder-to-shoulder for like 30 seconds. Nothing. I'm getting more uncomfortable. He's getting more uncomfortable. It slowly sinks into my head that a song is playing. I'm trying not to look around. He's trying not to look around.

It's 'Highway to the Danger Zone' by Kenny Loggins. There is a TV behind us on the wall, playing videos. We both slowly turn our heads (trying not to make eye contact) and stare at the monitor for like five seconds. I find this horrifying and funny. I promise myself never to use a urinal ever again and immediately leave. I think I even forgot to zip up, I was so flustered. I hate you, Kenny Loggins.



Which brings me back to my birthday. I am now in Matrix at station square, still a little geeked out from meeting Hines Ward***



And "Top Gun" is on the circular screen in one of the bar rooms. I hate you, Kenny Loggins. Once I found the coat check we got down to serious business at hand: Drinking.

The place was packed with meatheads, seriously underdressed women (although I'm not sure they were old enough to call women) and lots of alternative lifestyle types. It was an interesting mix. I watched two lesbians milk hormonal guys for drink after drink by sexy dancing with each other on top of a long runway across one room for about an hour.

It was nice to see the girls get the guys. And being guys, they were sure the girls were straight. Kind of weird though, watching the row of girls dancing in the strobes. At least they got drinks.

A quick question, can anyone tell me what the hell is the little finger flicking/rubbing in your palm when shaking hands? It feels like a live fish flopping in your palm. Please, if you ever shake hands with me, do NOT do this, it freaks me out and I think you're having some kind of seizure.*****



Needless to say, we got tanked. I will fast-forward to the next funny part. Done.

The one room had those fake oxygen tanks that have been lying around unused in Philly clubs for years. Of course, what was hilarious was that they are billed as re-energizers and supposedly pump pure oxygen in your nostrils.

The girl running the tanks was chain-smoking. If I knew the definition of irony, I would say this was it. But I don't actually know the definition of irony******



See, smoking away and me without a balloon to pop. Although I did have beads at this point.



I would have never guessed. So I made everyone sit down and I paid $1 a minute (five minute minimum plus $1 for the nose hose*******)



Like a fruity, energetic mix of Vicks Vapo-Rub and Mangoes. It really helps if you can laugh at yourself.



Or, if you like, you can laugh at my friend Rich. Ha! You look like you're enjoying a fruity energetic mix of Vicks Vapo-Rub and Mango Madness! I promised not to use this, I know, but Kenny Loggins made me. He sucks.

There was a lot more that happened actually, but my fingers suddenly got tired. Suffice to say, Happy Birthday, me.********





*This happens a lot in Men's locker rooms. Normally, the naked guy is over 70, heavy and covered in grizzled white hair. And for some reason, they've seem to forgotten how to wrap a towel around their waist. Men's locker rooms should not allow nakedness, period, in my opinion. I am scarred for life. Having been forced to see men naked all my life, I've become a lesbian by association. MEN ARE NOT ATTRACTIVE NAKED! I feel sorry for straight girls, even the ones willing to date me.**

**Just leave it alone, thank you.

***Overheard comment: "Hines! Hines! Damn, let me get over there and plant some of this sweet stuff on him, my baby's daddy ain't here. Oooh, get out my way!"****

****No, I did not say this.

*****Also, when grabbing my ass, please cup. Don't pat. Of course, a place like that, I was afraid to look back and see who was doing the patting. I hate you, Kenny Loggins.

******I don't think Alanis Morissette does, either.

*******Which those motherfuckers tried to take back. They're reselling the nose hoses! What a scam. Of course, I demanded mine. You never know when one could come in handy. It is now being worn by my personal desk mascot. I had to take beads and a Groucho Marx nose off of him. When I die, my desk drawer contents will likely spark some sort of investigation.

********Thank goodness no Russian mafia types and ping-pong this year.