LA Douchebag Project

“Hooofff…Ahhh…Hooofff…Ahhh…[fart]…” — Entire 8:15pm Bikram Yoga Class

I was walking down the street, in my gym shorts and t-shirt, carrying a bottle of water and a bleach-stained bath towel—nothing unusual at all. That’s when I saw them:  a cluster of sweaty, irregularly-shaped people in their underwear panting and squatting on the sidewalk.

A hallucination? Perhaps I was in the middle of a stress-induced nightmare brought on by the immense rejection I felt when my aspirations of becoming a commercial actor were squashed by Daniel Hoff Agency?  Or, maybe, it was just the best wet dream…ever?!

Fortunately (or unfortunately), no. This time, I was awake and lucid.  I had arrived at Bikram Yoga of Silverlake (http://www.bikramyogasilverlake.com/) and the class before mine had just let out. I took a moment to appreciate the folks splayed out on the pavement before me—Mmm, that’s good—then maneuvered around them and moseyed through the front doors.

”’Yoga’ refers to traditional physical, mental, and spiritual disciplines, originating in ancient India, whose goal is the attainment of a state of perfect spiritual insight and tranquility. The word is associated with meditative practices in Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism.”

Interesting…Wikipedia didn’t mention anything about neon foam mats, $3 bottles of coconut water, or excessive flatulence, but, true to form, Southern California has a unique way handling things.

I entered the studio, then immediately turned around and walked out. The room was sweltering. I knew it would be. Bikram yoga is a form of “hot yoga,” where the room is heated to 105-degrees.  It’s one of the douchiest yoga’s out there. Precisely why I’d chosen this class, but, being a naive little d-bag in training, I hadn’t counted on the oppressive humidity and stench.

Naturally, if you put fifty people into a room together it’s bound to get a little stale, but the process really speeds up when you jack-up the heat and force everyone into compromising positions for ninety minutes. You could have asked the obese man dripping next to me. It gets downright funky.

He rubbed his towel over his face and took a few deep breaths. When he looked up, he caught me staring.

“…It’s worth it.”

That’s all I needed.  I turned around and walked into the studio once again.

—PART 2 coming soon!