Weird Gymnasium

WEIRD GYMNASIUM

Gymnasiums have been a part of our culture for quite some time now; I
suppose that's what happens when you get money. And for one reason or
another, for health or vanity, I have been a member of a gym for a lot
of my adult life; that started at twenty, and I am now forty. Forty
itself is quite an absurd age really, neither young nor hopelessly old,
it just sits there, awkwardly, not even reassured (quite the contrary
in fact) by its ostensible significance to the family and friends of
those who reach the age. At least at fifty there's some affectionate
pity mingled with the false sense of triumph; at thirty your
acquaintances are usually still your peers, so you can all battle
through in the same pretence and denial. But forty possesses neither of
these consolations. It's perhaps fitting then that in my fortieth year,
my absurdest year, as I sat on a bench pressing weights in a gymnasium,
I looked across at the next bench to find a very large zebra working
out beside me.

The zebra saw me and smiled.

'What is a horse doing in the gymnasium?' I asked in shock.

'I'm not a horse - I'm a zebra. In here pumping iron. Toning up my body
before a night out. Got to look good, you know, battle the wrinkles and
all that.'

'How long have you been a member here? And how on earth did you get in?
Do you have a membership card?'

'Oh yes,' the zebra replied, in a manner that made me convinced he was
lying - but then, I reminded myself, there was very strict monitoring
of members here, so it was difficult to believe a zebra could have
gotten in unless it had been issued a membership, however absurd that
may seem. 'I've been a member here for a while. I usually come in on
Mondays, Wendesdays and Fridays. I'm surprised we've never met before
now. Do you use the swimming pool much? Olympic size, I must say I'm
very impressed. I tend to spend my other two nights there. But Fridays
I need to burn off some of that tension from the week.'

'I'm much the same,' I confessed, between hard-fought breaths, 'but I
have to say I very rarely use the swimming pool. I'm not a great
swimmer.'

'That's a shame. On the second Wednesday of every month there's water
polo - I'm a keen advocate.'

'What!' I spluttered, 'you play with other humans?'

'Well of course,' the zebra said, 'who else would I play with? As far
as I know I'm the only zebra who's been granted membership thus far.
Though I know one or two who are on the waiting list, and their turn
should be coming up soon. Until then, it's just me and the
humans.'

There was a slightly weighted pause after the zebra made this claim,
and I almost felt like a challenge had been put to me. A challenge to
my credibility, and more than that, a challenge to acknowledge the
right of zebras to be in this gym. And, taken so unawares, who was I to
deny it?

'Very good,' I said. 'So you're fitting in well here?'

'Very well,' the zebra assured me. It struck me - the son of a bitch
had more confidence in himself than I did.

'Anyways,' suddenly the zebra leapt up from the bench onto its feet -
its hooves rather - all four of them. 'I have a date in an hour so I
want to go grab a shower and tidy myself up. Don't want to be keeping
the ladies waiting! It was nice to meet you, though . . . I'll see you
next week, maybe?'

'Sure,' I said, '. . . I hope so.'

'Enjoy your night, now! Don't drink too much!'

Sprightly and rejuvenated, the zebra trotted off to the shower. As he
was walking away I looked around me, wondering had anybody else noticed
and what response registered with them - but all were busy toning
themselves up, absorbed in their own tasks, and as far as I could see
the zebra barely registered a side-glance.