The Rudest Guy Ever

Tonight, like many other nights, Neil and I went to the gym after work. We both hopped on elliptical machines and started moving. I listened to my iPod and Neil was tuned into one of the televisions. Suddenly, even though my volume was up 2/3 of the way, I heard a very loud sound. It took a moment, but I tracked the noise to a man two machines over who was, I discovered, holding a cell phone to his ear and shouting into it.

"Tell me about your life, man!" he hollered. "I want to hear what's up with you!"

These were not statements that needed to be shouted, but they were being shouted nonetheless.
Right behind this fine specimen of a human was a sign that said something like, "Don't use your cell phone." (The sign was a bit more polite.)

At first, I thought that he might just be talking very briefly. I reasoned that I might take a really important call at the gym and set up a time for a later call back. I expected that, at any moment, my fellow gym member would say (a bit more softly), "Well, I'm at the gym so I've got to go, man." But the minutes ticked by and we were subjected to his shouting.

Cell phone man looked like a nice enough guy. He had dark hair that was a little spiky in front and those thick plastic glasses that have become increasingly cool among the 30-something set. He was wearing a normal white t-shirt and some striped workout pants. He had three days worth of stubble on his face, but it made him look rugged, like the kind of man you might meet at the mountain bike shop or the ski area. But his shoes were another story. He had white Nikes with a black swoosh and a big orange stripe that went right through the swoosh and looked spray painted on the shoe. I wondered if they were from an outlet or something and had to be marked with orange paint because he didn't pay full price? Or maybe these spray-painted shoes are cool now? I have no idea. He also had a very dated Sony armband walkman strapped to his left arm. There have been at least three generations of portable music players since that thing was made, so you know he's not the hippest guy around.

As the man continued to shout into his phone for 5...6...10 minutes, my dislike for him grew. I became a less mature version of myself as I turned to Neil and made an obnoxious gagging sign which I knew full well that Cell Phone Man could have seen reflected in the dark window in front of us if he weren't so self absorbed. Neil did an exaggerated thumbs down gesture and the two of us kept looking at Cell Phone Man and rolling our eyes.

Why I let Cell Phone Man bring out the worst in me, I'm not sure. It was just amazing to me that he somehow thought it was ok to have a 15 minute conversation on the precor at the gym while at least ten other people were in the room with him. It was even more amazing that he was able to shout that loud for that long while working out. The other day I was wondering what little annoyances I have coping strategies for. I suppose that when I am really annoyed by an inappropriate cell phone talker, I gag, roll my eyes and act like an adolescent. (all behaviors that are much cooler than shouting into your phone at the gym.)