Sunday, March 28, 2010
A Friday Night Freakfest!
For the past several months (since around Thanksgiving), my friend (and colleague) Kate and I have had a standing Friday night date. She comes to my house at 6:30, and we take my car to Serenity where we enjoy the 7pm meditation class. When it ends around 8:15, we head to Starbucks where we get a tasty drink. Then we drive back to my house, have our "weekend hug," and Kate goes home to her husband and I go inside to my family. It's rather a nice ritual we have going.
(A side note on the "weekend hug"-- neither of us is big on contact with others (beyond, you know, our families and whatnot), and we reserve this type of contact for 'big' times--the birth of a child, congrats on a wedding, the loss of a loved one, extreme sadness or anxiety, or accompanying holiday gift-giving. We certainly aren't like our students who hug in between classes or every morning as though it has been years since they last saw one another. But for whatever reason, perhaps because of its pseudo-date nature--ha!--or because it's something that doesn't have to do with school, we ritually lean in for the one-armed hug each week as our 'bye- have-a-nice-weekend!' The other hand is, of course, clutching the delish Starbucks and bags with our meditation blankets.)
Anyhoo, when we first started attending, the pool of participants was quite small. It was just us and the 2 "snotty ladies"--a blond and a brunette. The second week we went, the snotty ladies were missing, but there was a man there. I'm sorry to say that I spent this week in a completely UNrelaxed state, with one eye cracked open, convinced that this man was going to assault me, Kate, and our instructor during our time together. After all, it was just us and him and nobody else was around. As it turns out, I was soon to discover, this is one docile dude: calm, relaxed, and seemingly peace-loving; thus, my fear of Tim that first night was unfounded.
As the weeks went on, it was pretty routinely us, Tim, and the 2 snotty ladies who, despite seeming uppity, became comfortably so. I feel like the turning point may have been the night the instructor had us all lay flat while dangling a mystical stone over our heart chakra. I'm pretty sure that's the night we did the "loving kindness" meditation and all of us ended up crying through it. It was as though we bonded over our intense emotions, even though it wasn't very interactive at all.
Kate and I grew comfortable with this new crew. Some nights they came, some nights they didn't. Once it was just us and the instructor's husband--that was the first night we "shreemed" (a mantra for abundance), although even with such a tiny group, I couldn't bring myself to say the word aloud. (I did it the next week, though, and it felt good.)
Then came a weird night with some new, annoying characters. This was the night that the instructor had us lay down. First off, this was a negative experience because everyone seemed to have some pretty intense gas pressure going on in their stomachs, so there was a chorus of stomach noises from all around the room (thankfully not accompanied by any smells...) In addition to the tumultuous tummies, there were the terribly distracting snores. Tim was one of the worst offenders of this, but worse than him was the character known as "the pregnant lady." This woman sat in the middle of the room, and seemed clearly never to have meditated before. First she had a coughing fit. Instead of leaving the room, she remained and tried to work it out, shattering any semblance of relaxation anyone in the room had managed to get going. In an effort to clear her throat, she took gulps of water. Her drinking was more a glugging, the kind one can hear across the room moving into the mouth and down the gullet in a disgusting glug, glug, glug, glug, glug, glug. Then, soon after, she fell asleep and snored the snore of a 300 pound truck driver, the kind of snore one generates when mocking a snoring person. Upon leaving class that night, Kate wryly remarked, "Is it wrong to want to murder a pregnant person?" (Not if it's THAT pregnant person, I think!)
Thankfully, she didn't show up the next week. And by this time, our now-familiar, no-longer-offensive-to-us snotty ladies had ceased to come too. But, unfortunately, a new character did. Some lady who sat next to Kate and who stinks and also needs to clear her throat and sneeze a lot. She insists on laying down to meditate (even though it's clear our instructor doesn't want us to lay down--especially after the unfortunate snoring night...). The 2nd week this woman came, she had a carton of eggs with her. I know that when I meditate, I like to have groceries there on the floor next to me... The week of the eggs, the woman's friend came, too. 15 minutes late. (The next week, Smelly Egg Lady sat across the room from Kate instead of next to her. Thank God for small miracles!)
The next week the worst character of all arrived: obnoxious Buddha wannabe woman, who refuses to sit on a pillow, sit against the wall, or even smile. She sits cross-legged the whole time, with her hands palms up and resting on her knees, her middle finger and thumb making the circle shape, her eyes raised as if toward heaven (which, conveniently, also makes it so that she is quite literally looking down her nose at everyone else in the room.) This woman is loathesome and casts an air of discomfort in the room.
This bitch has taken to inviting equally obnoxious friends with her to class. (It never ceases to amaze me how much I find myself disliking people I don't even really know!)
All of this leads me to this past Friday's class.
Kate and I frequently tout the virtues of our class to our friends at work. About a month ago we made plans to go for a pedicure on Friday after work, then grab dinner, and then go to meditation. Our friend, Aubrey, who went with us for the pedis, was also on board for the rest of the night's events.
At dinner, we regaled Aubrey with tales of the annoying cast of characters--Tim, Smelly Egg Lady, Annoying Pregnant Woman, Loathesome Buddha Bitch--but ended on a note that people don't always come each week, that we haven't seen the pregnant chick since that first time, etc.
Fast forward to the class. We walk in and set up against our favorite wall and look around. It's a packed house (for this place, anyway); sadly, it was packed with all of our least favorites. Ms. Preggo was back again; the Egg lady and her late friend (who was late again, I might add), were both there, although this time without any groceries; and the Buddha wench was there, too. (In fact, as we were entering the room, she was walking out of it on the way to the bathroom between the Tai Chi class that she attended right before it. I asked her, "Are you guys done in there?" She ignored me completely. Yep, that's about right.) This week, she'd invited this ridiculous penis-head: a bald man wearing jeans and carrying a yoga mat. They had a pre-class chat about the book he'd brought with him (that he bought at a bookstore on South Street!). It was all very annoying.
Class started. Baldy started laying down in corpse pose on his mat. Right in front of me, I might add. Preggo Pop started across the room in the middle, but quickly moved along the same wall as us, only down about 15 feet. Jennifer, the instructor, started the guided breathing. Then Preggy McPreggerson started the phlegm-fest. Cough cough cough. Hack. Cough. Here we go again! Then a quick glug glug, sputter, for effect. Across the room, Leggo my Eggo sneezes. In front of me, the Bald Eagle rises into bridge pose (because doing yoga during meditation is normal! NOT!) A few moments of blessed silence ensue, but then I start to notice the strange clicking noise. It takes a few minutes, but I diagnose it as, essentially, the sound of the back of one's throat being partially blocked while one is breathing out one's mouth. Who is it? The pregnant one, of course.
Class dragged on and on and on, for what seemed like days. I had resorted to my own in-head guided meditation to avoid the madness all around me. Finally, it was over.
In the parking lot, Kate and Aubrey shared all the strange poses the bald dude was doing in front of me. Thankfully, my eyes had been closed. Aubrey explained that she hadn't been able to get into the meditation at all. Kate and I admitted sadly that this was not a representative experience, and that all of the worst people had been there. We felt embarrassed the way one is when one feels personally responsible for someone else's bad time.
On our way to Starbucks, Kate and I both confessed that we aren't sure if we'll be able to continue to attend meditation if these are our fellow meditators. I'd had a fantastic, wonderful, exceptionally happy day (the details of which I intend to feature in a future blog), and this experience, ironically, was by far the worst part of my day. That is not ok.
At Starbucks we encountered the last of our crazy cast of characters: the barista we have dubbed "Rin," after a very strange former student of mine whom this woman resembles both in behavior and, to an extent, appearance. We should have known right away that this woman would end up being a wackadoo, as on our first encounter with her back in November, when Kate was trying to buy some crackers, she remarked, "Oh. I'm sorry, but I can't sell you these." (There was no sku.) "Rin," we have discovered, is rather judgmental for a barista, once having the following exchange with Kate--who had ordered herself a beverage and then also picked up a pack of cookies for herself and a chocolate chip cookie for her husband-- "Will you be getting another drink?" When Kate said no, "Rin" replied, "Ok, then. So one drink and the cookies and cakes..." trailing off as though Kate was being a pig about it and not buying it for someone else! (Not that it should matter either way.) This woman also makes random strange remarks that have since become euphamisms for Kate and I.
Scene: Kate digging out her wallet to pay, and remarking to me that her bag is so big. "Rin" jumps in and says, "Oh! I have a big bag, too! I like to keep all sorts of things in there, like my diskettes--" At this point, Kate and I had to specifically AVOID making eye contact so as to not laugh our asses off at each other in front of the woman. As we left the store, we said, practically in unison, "I'm sorry... DISKETTES??? Who has diskettes anymore?!" We had a hearty laugh over the lady's strangeness, and then had another hearty laugh over the fact that we'd had to avoid each other's gaze because it would have caused us to erupt in laughter. Since that night, we will use the term "diskette" to indicate something ridiculous that we can't discuss at present lest we lose it.
So anyway, in sum, our Friday night meditation dates may soon be coming to an end because annoying people are ruining our relaxation potential.
On the bright side, for Kate at least (who this week purchased a "Sounds of India" CD at Starbucks), "Rin" has offered to go see Bollywood films with her. (Seriously.) So perhaps Kate and "Rin" will soon be enjoying their own "weekend hug."
Ommmmm!
(A side note on the "weekend hug"-- neither of us is big on contact with others (beyond, you know, our families and whatnot), and we reserve this type of contact for 'big' times--the birth of a child, congrats on a wedding, the loss of a loved one, extreme sadness or anxiety, or accompanying holiday gift-giving. We certainly aren't like our students who hug in between classes or every morning as though it has been years since they last saw one another. But for whatever reason, perhaps because of its pseudo-date nature--ha!--or because it's something that doesn't have to do with school, we ritually lean in for the one-armed hug each week as our 'bye- have-a-nice-weekend!' The other hand is, of course, clutching the delish Starbucks and bags with our meditation blankets.)
Anyhoo, when we first started attending, the pool of participants was quite small. It was just us and the 2 "snotty ladies"--a blond and a brunette. The second week we went, the snotty ladies were missing, but there was a man there. I'm sorry to say that I spent this week in a completely UNrelaxed state, with one eye cracked open, convinced that this man was going to assault me, Kate, and our instructor during our time together. After all, it was just us and him and nobody else was around. As it turns out, I was soon to discover, this is one docile dude: calm, relaxed, and seemingly peace-loving; thus, my fear of Tim that first night was unfounded.
As the weeks went on, it was pretty routinely us, Tim, and the 2 snotty ladies who, despite seeming uppity, became comfortably so. I feel like the turning point may have been the night the instructor had us all lay flat while dangling a mystical stone over our heart chakra. I'm pretty sure that's the night we did the "loving kindness" meditation and all of us ended up crying through it. It was as though we bonded over our intense emotions, even though it wasn't very interactive at all.
Kate and I grew comfortable with this new crew. Some nights they came, some nights they didn't. Once it was just us and the instructor's husband--that was the first night we "shreemed" (a mantra for abundance), although even with such a tiny group, I couldn't bring myself to say the word aloud. (I did it the next week, though, and it felt good.)
Then came a weird night with some new, annoying characters. This was the night that the instructor had us lay down. First off, this was a negative experience because everyone seemed to have some pretty intense gas pressure going on in their stomachs, so there was a chorus of stomach noises from all around the room (thankfully not accompanied by any smells...) In addition to the tumultuous tummies, there were the terribly distracting snores. Tim was one of the worst offenders of this, but worse than him was the character known as "the pregnant lady." This woman sat in the middle of the room, and seemed clearly never to have meditated before. First she had a coughing fit. Instead of leaving the room, she remained and tried to work it out, shattering any semblance of relaxation anyone in the room had managed to get going. In an effort to clear her throat, she took gulps of water. Her drinking was more a glugging, the kind one can hear across the room moving into the mouth and down the gullet in a disgusting glug, glug, glug, glug, glug, glug. Then, soon after, she fell asleep and snored the snore of a 300 pound truck driver, the kind of snore one generates when mocking a snoring person. Upon leaving class that night, Kate wryly remarked, "Is it wrong to want to murder a pregnant person?" (Not if it's THAT pregnant person, I think!)
Thankfully, she didn't show up the next week. And by this time, our now-familiar, no-longer-offensive-to-us snotty ladies had ceased to come too. But, unfortunately, a new character did. Some lady who sat next to Kate and who stinks and also needs to clear her throat and sneeze a lot. She insists on laying down to meditate (even though it's clear our instructor doesn't want us to lay down--especially after the unfortunate snoring night...). The 2nd week this woman came, she had a carton of eggs with her. I know that when I meditate, I like to have groceries there on the floor next to me... The week of the eggs, the woman's friend came, too. 15 minutes late. (The next week, Smelly Egg Lady sat across the room from Kate instead of next to her. Thank God for small miracles!)
The next week the worst character of all arrived: obnoxious Buddha wannabe woman, who refuses to sit on a pillow, sit against the wall, or even smile. She sits cross-legged the whole time, with her hands palms up and resting on her knees, her middle finger and thumb making the circle shape, her eyes raised as if toward heaven (which, conveniently, also makes it so that she is quite literally looking down her nose at everyone else in the room.) This woman is loathesome and casts an air of discomfort in the room.
This bitch has taken to inviting equally obnoxious friends with her to class. (It never ceases to amaze me how much I find myself disliking people I don't even really know!)
All of this leads me to this past Friday's class.
Kate and I frequently tout the virtues of our class to our friends at work. About a month ago we made plans to go for a pedicure on Friday after work, then grab dinner, and then go to meditation. Our friend, Aubrey, who went with us for the pedis, was also on board for the rest of the night's events.
At dinner, we regaled Aubrey with tales of the annoying cast of characters--Tim, Smelly Egg Lady, Annoying Pregnant Woman, Loathesome Buddha Bitch--but ended on a note that people don't always come each week, that we haven't seen the pregnant chick since that first time, etc.
Fast forward to the class. We walk in and set up against our favorite wall and look around. It's a packed house (for this place, anyway); sadly, it was packed with all of our least favorites. Ms. Preggo was back again; the Egg lady and her late friend (who was late again, I might add), were both there, although this time without any groceries; and the Buddha wench was there, too. (In fact, as we were entering the room, she was walking out of it on the way to the bathroom between the Tai Chi class that she attended right before it. I asked her, "Are you guys done in there?" She ignored me completely. Yep, that's about right.) This week, she'd invited this ridiculous penis-head: a bald man wearing jeans and carrying a yoga mat. They had a pre-class chat about the book he'd brought with him (that he bought at a bookstore on South Street!). It was all very annoying.
Class started. Baldy started laying down in corpse pose on his mat. Right in front of me, I might add. Preggo Pop started across the room in the middle, but quickly moved along the same wall as us, only down about 15 feet. Jennifer, the instructor, started the guided breathing. Then Preggy McPreggerson started the phlegm-fest. Cough cough cough. Hack. Cough. Here we go again! Then a quick glug glug, sputter, for effect. Across the room, Leggo my Eggo sneezes. In front of me, the Bald Eagle rises into bridge pose (because doing yoga during meditation is normal! NOT!) A few moments of blessed silence ensue, but then I start to notice the strange clicking noise. It takes a few minutes, but I diagnose it as, essentially, the sound of the back of one's throat being partially blocked while one is breathing out one's mouth. Who is it? The pregnant one, of course.
Class dragged on and on and on, for what seemed like days. I had resorted to my own in-head guided meditation to avoid the madness all around me. Finally, it was over.
In the parking lot, Kate and Aubrey shared all the strange poses the bald dude was doing in front of me. Thankfully, my eyes had been closed. Aubrey explained that she hadn't been able to get into the meditation at all. Kate and I admitted sadly that this was not a representative experience, and that all of the worst people had been there. We felt embarrassed the way one is when one feels personally responsible for someone else's bad time.
On our way to Starbucks, Kate and I both confessed that we aren't sure if we'll be able to continue to attend meditation if these are our fellow meditators. I'd had a fantastic, wonderful, exceptionally happy day (the details of which I intend to feature in a future blog), and this experience, ironically, was by far the worst part of my day. That is not ok.
At Starbucks we encountered the last of our crazy cast of characters: the barista we have dubbed "Rin," after a very strange former student of mine whom this woman resembles both in behavior and, to an extent, appearance. We should have known right away that this woman would end up being a wackadoo, as on our first encounter with her back in November, when Kate was trying to buy some crackers, she remarked, "Oh. I'm sorry, but I can't sell you these." (There was no sku.) "Rin," we have discovered, is rather judgmental for a barista, once having the following exchange with Kate--who had ordered herself a beverage and then also picked up a pack of cookies for herself and a chocolate chip cookie for her husband-- "Will you be getting another drink?" When Kate said no, "Rin" replied, "Ok, then. So one drink and the cookies and cakes..." trailing off as though Kate was being a pig about it and not buying it for someone else! (Not that it should matter either way.) This woman also makes random strange remarks that have since become euphamisms for Kate and I.
Scene: Kate digging out her wallet to pay, and remarking to me that her bag is so big. "Rin" jumps in and says, "Oh! I have a big bag, too! I like to keep all sorts of things in there, like my diskettes--" At this point, Kate and I had to specifically AVOID making eye contact so as to not laugh our asses off at each other in front of the woman. As we left the store, we said, practically in unison, "I'm sorry... DISKETTES??? Who has diskettes anymore?!" We had a hearty laugh over the lady's strangeness, and then had another hearty laugh over the fact that we'd had to avoid each other's gaze because it would have caused us to erupt in laughter. Since that night, we will use the term "diskette" to indicate something ridiculous that we can't discuss at present lest we lose it.
So anyway, in sum, our Friday night meditation dates may soon be coming to an end because annoying people are ruining our relaxation potential.
On the bright side, for Kate at least (who this week purchased a "Sounds of India" CD at Starbucks), "Rin" has offered to go see Bollywood films with her. (Seriously.) So perhaps Kate and "Rin" will soon be enjoying their own "weekend hug."
Ommmmm!
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