So I’m attending a tin yoga class which is a fucking treat for me because as a yoga teacher it’s hard to get to a real class that I’m not teaching myself because I rarely want to do more than one yoga class a day.
I walk into the studio that I’m also teaching at and chat with the other teachers and make my way into the room.
The teacher has set up her mat with some candles and what not. A few other ladies are lying on bolsters enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. I arrange my Mat and collect some props and sit down and start to chill. I lie down on a bolster and am listening to the calm specifically chosen spa music. Feeling zen as fuck. I am totally happy with my choice to attend a yin class because I never do that and am feeling like I need some nice slow deep stretch. Settling in.
In walks some fucking guy. Late 50s. I hear him come into the lobby and loudly talk to the teacher in the reception area about his entire week. I internally roll my eyes while they are closed.
He bursts into the studio. Comes right beside me and literally throws his bag on the ground making me jump. Then he takes his mat and like smacks it on the ground. Clearly that didn’t smooth it out so he picks it up and again smacks the fucking mat on the ground like he’s spreading a bed sheet only with a large heavy plastic mat. Ew.
THEN. As if he’s not being obnoxious enough. Takes out his probable iphone2 and starts madly texting someone.. with the keyboard clicks enabled. Ew. Like writes a short novel to someone. I hear the little beep that he’s rapidly sending multiple texts to his people. I’m annoyed.
He sighs and says, “OK TIME TO YOGA”. Then he loudly unzippers his bag, which I’m positive is made of chains and lead, and then settles in.
Oh but first he needs to get up and stretch and then locate his janitor size set of keys in his pocket and DROP (I kid you not) DROP his keys on the floor.
Guys. Don’t be this guy. Please. I can’t stress it enough. Come in and shut up. Some people use this time as “me time”. Not “me and some guy time”.