Dear people who drive to work out at the 24 Hour Fitness in the Pearl:
I realize not everyone is lucky enough to work across the street from this particular gym, but I also happen to know that there are a gazillion 24 Hour Fitnesses in the metro area. But maybe this one is the coolest, I dunno. I haven't been to them all. Maybe the ellipticals are the best in the area. Great. You want to come to this one. I get it.
What I don't get? Is why you people DRIVE there. And then wait, blocking traffic on both sides of NW Irving Street, for someone to leave and open up a place in one of the ten parking spots in the garage across the street or the lot in front of the place. Seriously. What are you thinking? Every day I see dozens of you folks in your Nike gym clothes or yoga togs, driving SUVs and Priuses and everything in between, engines running and turn signals on, waiting for one of these coveted parking spaces.
Now, I'm assuming nothing is wrong with your legs, since you manage to (eventually) get out of the car and walk into the gym to work out. I'm assuming you're not too broke to pay for parking somewhere other than the free lot, or maybe even a mass transit pass, given the high quality gear you're wearing. I also assume, based on said high quality gear, that you care about appearances.
So here's my helpful tip: why don't you park in a spot a block or two away (even if it costs you a buck or two) and walk, or better yet, leave the car at home and take the bus or streetcar instead of blocking traffic, burning a non-renewable resource, all while waiting for a free parking spot to open up. Maybe you have more time than I do (I'm assuming again, because I certainly don't have enough to spend 20 minutes blocking a public street to wait for a parking spot), and you probably have more money, because you aren't working during the business day like I am, but, well, you look like the self-important, irresponsible moron you probably are.
I'm just saying. If you're OK with that, then more power to you. But you really do look silly.
Love,
Shelley

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