Errg. Last Wednesday, Thursday and Friday were snow days. And that means that parents go to work and drop their spawn off at the gym. Or, more accurately, the matching jump suit mother drops her 2-3 kids off along with 2-3 neighbor kids while she heads back home for some peace and quiet, and judging by the spawn’s rudeness, loudness and general shittyness, she indulges in wine until hubby gets home with the 4-6 kids. “It takes a village to raise a child.” No it doesn’t, it takes a parent. I didn’t take part in a community organized event that forced unwilling couples to fornicate until a “miracle” happened…for our village. Sure, I knew that kids were welcome in my gym, and there is plenty of room for them to run around in the gymnasium portions. Fine. Thank God that they aren’t allowed in the weight room.
Anyway, this is what happened in the locker room. I walk in and there are about 7 boys (6-10 years old) standing in the doorway, oblivious to the fact that people will be walking through it, being as loud as possible*, eating candy bars and spilling soda on the floor. I walk through them (yes, through them) and say “Excuse me, gentleman.” I do not enjoy kids in general (unless I know them or their parents), but I am always polite and I act as though they are really cool, and most of the time, they are. The doorway blockers barely move and don’t say a word. After I get my duffle bag unpacked, this naked 8 year old (from the pool!?) walks over and lays his towel on my duffle bag, partly covering my shoes, and ipod. When I say “Uh, excuse me there.” And go to move my stuff, he says “Oh.” grabs his towel knocking my ipod to the floor. He has to hear it, but ignores it. He steps on it with his wet, bare feet, ignoring it again, and shuts my locker to get to his. At that point this other guy, who has been waiting in the doorway for the monsters to get out of the way and/or get out of the headlock they are in, just snaps: “All right, enough! Get out of the locker room! This is not part of your playground!” They leave (slowly) and he looks at me shaking his head. Finally the kid who apparently lost his sight, inhibitions, and all sense of sensation in his feet drags himself out, too. I don’t care that kids are loud and engage in kid's stuff, they are kids and I was once one, too. But it makes me insane when the parents aren’t doing their job. WTF are they!? They pawn them off on anyone, anyone just to get some relief. Also, I am a freak about germs, and I don’t want whatever is on the gym floor (bare feet) on my ipod ear buds, which will eventually go in my ears, which are now breached gateways to my health.
The 4th quarter. About four 13 year-old girls walk in the front door with 2 mothers. These girls didn’t bring their IDs, so the lady that I am waiting on to get me a towel is busy going through the system and buzzing them in. The mothers are experiencing a delay, and they are pissed. They are glaring at the lady every time she asks for a name. The girls are picking up on it too and their expressions are looking more and more like haughty, old-money snobs each second, even though they aren’t old-money. They aren't even new-money, for that matter. There was such a sense of entitlement in the air that you would have thought I was in the presence of Barbara Bush. Then I had to wait on them again because they sat on the floor of the doorway so they could all change their shoes. I couldn’t step over because it was a doorway. I stood there waiting while they talked about Emma’s ugly sweater, and Megan’s ugly hair, all the while ignoring everyone else and their own ugly smugness taught by their mother’s ugly attitudes. WTF are they sitting on the floor in the doorway!? They didn’t bother moving or saying “Excuse our narcissistic asses.” They were just as oblivious as the 8 year-old naturalist from the locker room. Does Elmo teach them to hang out in doorways? Seriously, does he!? He better, he f-ing better, because I can’t imagine where kids are picking this up.
Me: “Sir, have you seen Elmo?”
Sir: “Why no, but I am sure you will find him in a doorway, that is where he hangs out.”
Me: “Okay thanks, I am going to kill him.”
Sir: “Splendid, that is very good news! Just don’t do it in the doorway.”
Me: “Of course.”
So, next snow day, the I-want-kids-but-don’t-want-to-watch-them parents' will win by forfeit. I will just stay home. Call me and we will have lunch. Seriously, if we have a snow day, call me and we will have lunch.
*This is irrelevant, but I am just being accurate
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