Tuesday, October 7

I am right now sitting in Professor Sails’ class, who last week admitted that he vividly recalls waiting in the breadline during the Great Depression and that the current recession is capitalism utopia in comparison, which is again killing me slowly. I can literally feel myself dying. To take my mind off my imminent demise…

Yesterday I stood naked in front of people—they showed me no attention and went on with their business. This is true. I was in the locker room at the Recreational Sports Facility (RSF). Now prior to this, I hadn’t taken a “public” shower since my collegiate basketball-playing days—the first time I was an undergrad. And even then, it was a little uncomfortable. Not because my sexual preference conflicted with the majority of the males who were in the locker room and I feared that an anatomic change would take place in my mid-section at the sight of male nudity, but because I have OOD: Obsessive Observance Disorder, which does not fair well in the shower when other people are present. My observance isn’t academic or research-based; its more like curiosity—like a cat. And my cat whips her head around every time she hears something. So you can imagine how my OOD would look to a locker room full of naked dudes.

As I was taking off my sweaty clothes and changing into my birthday suit, a ton of questions came into my head: where do I look when everyone surrounding me is naked? Can I strike up a conversation while in the shower? Can I wash my feet (think about it)? As I made the 40-meter journey from my locker to the shower room (no curtains), I concentrated on keeping my towel on (approximately 30 inches x 20 inches) and maintaining my laser like focus on—nothing. Several men, who seemingly forgot their towels or preferred to air dry, passed by but I didn’t notice them. Really. I was focused on—nothing. When I finally made it, I hung up my towel on a hook and took another 12 steps to a showerhead.

Losing “focus” briefly, I couldn’t help but notice that I was the only person in the shower room with facial wash, although a couple guys had shampoo. I was also the only person with a loofa—or anything remotely similar. As the water sprayed my body, I stared at the tile floor and/or the ceiling. In between gazes at these two beautiful scenes, I couldn’t help but notice a guy (who happened to be naked) lurking around the area where people hook their towels. A feeling of horror crossed my mind as I thought out the scenario of him mistakenly grabbing my towel. Given that the clean towels are located at the locker room reception area, a missing towel is a more severe circumstance than one might think. So I wouldn’t look too curious—he was naked—I returned to the tile floor.

After I finished exfoliating and micro-derm abrasion on my face, I turned off the water and stanchly strutted over to my towel. But there was no towel. My eighth worst fear had come true. At first I chuckled because I had already run through the scenario in my head, but that didn’t last long—the chuckle—because the scenario involved me running to the front desk with my package in my hands and grabbing a towel with my teeth. The two other guys in the shower (separately) were facing the wall and focusing on the tile and ceiling, so I tried to shake off the water on me. That got the majority of the water off but I was still wet—and one of the guy’s eyes started wandering and I really didn’t want him to see me naked and bouncing. So I stood there pensively, hoping the air dry process would expeditiously kick in. No luck. I walked toward the area where everybody else’s towels were and again checked the hook on which mine was located in awe. I then crept gingerly toward the sink/toilet area in hope that there’d be another clean towel area for people who had run out of toilet paper, forgot their towel or had their towel stolen like me. Again, no luck. All I received were confused glances from the fully clothed men combing their hair and urinating.

To prevent athlete’s foot, I had on a pair of sandals. Typically, having these on offers me a sense of security but yesterday, they prevented me from sneaking past people—I sounded like a duck walking through a marsh. So each time I walked past someone, they would turn around to inspect the strange noise only to find a butt-naked “undergrad” prancing through the facilities without a towel. Unfortunate, yes, but I had to find a towel. No one under 68 air-dries in public.

Not to belabor the point, but seriously, a man walking through the locker room stark naked is as obscure as a man walking through the mall stark naked. For men my professor’s age (pre-ice age), its okay to do the nudie thing—just as its slightly more acceptable for a man that age to be naked at the mall—but for me, a 26 year-old undergrad, its not acceptable.

After about six minutes of wandering back and forth to each corner of the spacious locker room, I mustered up the courage to dry myself off—with a towel located in the reception area. I figured that if I moved quickly, I could get to the inconspicuous clean towel basket without being spotted by too bystanders.

So as to appear oddly comfortable with my liberating nakedness, I whistled all the way to the entry to the locker room, all the while looking up and to the right. I whistled Ice-T’s “Cop Killer” for some reason.
When I got to the door I froze. For one, I was cold (reference Seinfeld), and that made me a little less inclined to risk seeing the opposite sex. And two, it just would have been weird if I streaked into the reception area—but that wouldn’t have been as strange as what happened next.

Thinking I could have someone else grab a towel for me, I stopped the next guy who rounded the corner and said “hey—uh.” The guy’s face stopped me in mid-sentence—and I think my nudity stopped him in mid-stride. Remembering my mission, I tried again. “Hey.” I realized why he was so flabbergasted. Not only was a I naked, but it seemed that I was trying to woo him with a pick up line. I continued, “hey man, I’m naked and wet.” Fuck! This is not working. “Uh, can you just grab me a towel?” A couple more guys walked by and shamefully observed the exchange.

He came back shortly after my request and tossed three towels at me.