Rude Society - Part One

When did it become okay to hit/slap/push/kick or otherwise assault strangers?

Last week, my regular yoga instructor was out of town.  Since I'm not keen on the person who was replacing her, I decided to try a #Zumba class.

The Zumba class meets an hour earlier, immediately ahead of my regular yoga class, and it looked fun.  Interesting movement, upbeat music (a lot, but not all, of it Latin), high energy.  Some of the choreography seemed a little tricky for a newcomer, but I figured my dance background would lend itself to picking up combinations relatively quickly.  And, based on how people looked when they left the class -- smiling, sweaty, satisfied -- I thought it would be a good complement to my overall fitness regimen.

Typically, the first two rows are filled by regulars who show up well ahead of class time to claim their spots.  The people in the next two rows are also regulars, but they don't get there early enough to earn a spot up front.  The last row is mostly older women who are content to do whatever they can, even if it has nothing to do with the choreography.

I scanned the room as soon as I entered and decided the best place for me was in the center, the best vantage point for seeing the choreography.  I didn't want to get in anyone's way, so I found what looked like the best place -- the middle of the last row.

Before the class began, I went to the front of the room to introduce myself to the instructor -- an adorable, petite woman named Bebe, whom all of her students adore -- and let her know that it was my first Zumba class.  She told me to grab a spot exactly where I had.  "The choreography can be a little complicated," she said, "so don't worry about it.  Just do the best you can."  I said I would.

By the time I got back to my spot in the back, the music had started and she was giving instructions.  It all made sense.

The first fifteen minutes were fine.  I can't say I got 100% of the choreography, but I was doing well enough.  I could see Bebe most of the time, and was at least able to get most of the footwork.  I have pretty good musicality and rhythm, so even when I missed a step I managed to stay with the beat and not completely screw up.  In other words, I didn't Zumba into anyone.

Then Bebe paused the class to demonstrate a new piece of choreography.  A large man -- easily 350 pounds -- in the second row was blocking my vision, so I moved up a row and slightly to my left to better see what Bebe was doing.

Before I could get my bearings, an older man on my left pushed me and said, "Get back to where you were."  Without taking my eyes off Bebe, I responded that I wasn't stealing his spot; I was merely trying to observe what the instructor was demonstrating.  "Well, get back to your own spot," he said.

At that point, I had missed the entire combination.

"Fuck you, asshole."

Which, of course, is what the entire class heard.  The only problem is that nobody knew what had happened.  An overweight guy in the second row said, "No fighting, no fighting.  If you want to fight, go home and watch the news.  But no fighting in Zumba."

Bebe said, "Enough.  Let's just get back to what we're doing."  And with that, the music started anew.

I had missed an entire section of choreography at that point, so I left the group exercise room, found an available treadmill and satisfied my fitness goal for the day with an easy, 40-minute run.

When I was done, I headed back to the classroom.  I wanted to confront the man and apologize to Bebe.  I waited for the class to end, approached the man and said, "You might want to think twice before you put your hands on anyone again.  Next time, you may not be so lucky."  Seriously, next time someone might push him back or, worse, sue him for assault.

"I didn't touch you," he snarled.

He had, but what was the point of arguing?

A minute later, I was apologizing to Bebe and explaining what happened.  She told me several other women had complained about that man for the same reason.

And yet...

Three women approached me in the locker room to tell me they had variously been hit, pushed or kicked by this man, yet nothing had been done about it even though one had complained to management.  (#24-Hour Fitness, look out: Your day of reckoning may be closer than you think!)  

Have people lost their marbles?  Are they so immersed in their own electronic universes that they've already forgotten how to be civil, how to interact peaceably with each other?  Are we being reduced to toddlers in a sandbox, tossing sand at each other when we can't get our way?

What the hell is going on?

More on Rude Society in my next post.