Banal Series # 12 Fitness Rooms in Hotels

These mirror walled, large glass windowed rooms in hotels speak of health. Or fitness. Guests may observe this small terrarium through the glass while traversing hallways to rooms, or lobbies or arcades. A placard, doubly noted in Braille, describes a minimum age requirement for usage. Keycard slots chirp red and green yeses and nos.

A guest, garbed in an appropriate t-shirt or polo, and shorts of lacrosse or basketball styling, laces his New Balance sneakers. He will have a go at the old universal weight machine. With some clicks of a spring loaded peg, the padded slab of the bench – yellow pokes of foam betraying the 1980’s sleekness of the vinyl at the corners – goes from abdominal slant board to the familiar and timeless plane of the benchpress. He slaps a pin into the stack of charcoal rectangles, and muscles the cantilevered and chromed bar up and down the worn guides. He expels a breath. Twelve reps should be enough. He is, after all, a guest in this hotel.

He moves on to the treadmill. A television, in the old tube style cranes overhead, and yaps a mindless and soundless loop of ESPN, or some other fare ubiquitous enough and familiar enough for broadcast in the gym of a hotel. Running up the speed to a balmy 5 mph, he times his jog with this segment of Sportscenter highlight reels. He tones down the speed with some beeps, and a waning whir, attenuating at a calm walk. He eyes the water cooler, flanked by a sleeve of conical paper cups, next to the wicker shelf of white hand towels. He contemplates an early exit, but realizes he has not pulled and heaved on the Aerodyne rowing machine; the last machine in the fitness room. The chilled satisfaction of the water cooler wins out, and with towel slung over shoulders our guest heads victoriously to the indoor pool.