I also still maintain that there is too much penis loitering around in sports club locker rooms. Last night, for example, I saw two naked men just standing in the hallway talking to each other. Stark naked. How can you do that and keep a straight face? Hell, how can you do that and maintain eye contact? Another guy was standing in the mirror just looking at himself. WTF? Go home and stare at yourself naked. I do.
Anyway, the most awkward moment in the sauna this week was my fault, entirely. Everything gets locked in a locker, and you take a key on an elastic band along with you everywhere. When I'm showering, it's under my towel. When I'm sauna-ing, it's around my wrist. Unless I start to get too hot. Or if the key touches me a few minutes into it and I feel like I've burnt myself with a sauna-heated, gym locker key. So, the key was sitting next to me for a few minutes.
I was all into the sauna. Leaned back, eyes closed, dripping sweat. Then I heard it. The slight tink-tink of a triangle in the distance, or the scooting of keys beside me. It took me a second, but then I almost shit myself once I realized what had happened. Did an awkward nakedy-naked guy scoot up next to me? Nope. Worse. My locker key slid between the slots of the bench, and now they were comfortably resting about 4 feet below me, out of reach of any part of my body. The next thing I remember, the door opened and a gentleman that had been coming in and out of the sauna asked me if I was ok.
I was on all fours on the floor, butt naked, desperately trying to force my arm to fit in between the vertical slots of the wooden bench. It was fruitless, yet I didn't immediately have any other ideas. So, I tried everything from getting the boards to open up or slide, to trying to find a way to climb under the bench from the far end. What else was I going to do? Walk out to the front desk while completely nude and request that they help me get my key out of the sauna? That sounds like the beginning of a gay porno.
Instead, I walked out and searched around for something to stick between the slots. Q-tips, towels, combs, bags, a chair, stools... nothing. Then, all the way in the back of the shower room, I saw it. It was the janitor's closet. Or custodian's closet. Or whatever. I prayed that it wasn't locked as I walked toward it, and it wasn't. I grabbed some sort of long, threaded rod and managed to return my key to my hand in a minute or so.
I even maintained myself enough to actually get back into sauna-mode and hang out there for 10 more minutes. Regardless, for 5 minutes or so, I had tragically fallen into every bad 'dropped soap' cliche there is.
So, yeah, who's coming sauna-ing with me?