I’m at the gym. There’s a guy running at the treadmill on the left, maybe he doesn’t visit the gym often, he’s breathing hard. He has on a pair of headphones and has worked up a thick sheet of sweat.
The gym is crowded, people exercising in calm, orderly fashion, quiet but for the fans and the noise of the equipment. But suddenly the guy on the treadmill starts waving his hands wildly in the air, and the gym turns to look at him, to see that he’s actually air-drumming. He’s oblivious, eyes closed, his head bouncing to the music in his headphones. He is a visual cacophony, limbs flailing, rocking the beat on several invisible air drums hovering above his treadmill. Maybe it’s Van Halen. Maybe Zeppelin. Whatever it is, he’s into it.
The people in the gym go back to their exercising, some smirking at each other about the display. The drumming subsides and the guy opens up his eyes and he runs normally for a few more minutes. After he finishes and leaves, another guy does an imitation of him, people laugh.
Maybe he drives home, smiling at clouds. Maybe he blogs about it.
