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Saturday, July 03, 2004 It's axiomatic that men's rooms are risky places. At any time, in any one of them, you're up against fair odds that you'll see, smell or hear something uncivilized, if not out-and-out unnerving. Might be the same in women's rooms -- I can't say. I suspect not, though. I tend to think most women maintain a certain minimum level of pride, dignity, refinement that many men lack. Could be the result of taught gender behavior or it could be intrinsic –- who knows? That's a debate I'm not dipping into. Anyway. Today: a spectacular Vermont summer day. Classic. Breathtaking. I drive into Montpelier, go to the gym. Post-sweaty activity, I'm in the locker room, pulling on clothes. Tranquility reigns -- only one other guy's around, off taking a shower. Shower Man finishes up, comes walking out, grabs his towel, heads into the bathroom part of the space. (Doesn't towel off, leaves watery footrprints the whole way.) Decent-looking guy, or at least he appeared to think so. In decent shape. Moderately hairy. Stops in front of a long mirror, picks up one of the in-house hair-dryers, turns it on. Works on his coiffe for a moment, then switches hands, reaches back... and begins using the hair-dryer on his butt. I'm still grossed out. Madrid, te echo de menos. rws 9:55 PM [+]
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