I met Karma today.
He was cooler than I ever imagined.
I just experienced one of those things that you would only ever see in a movie. And it was absolutely perfect. Wouldn’t normally share something like this but it is too good not to. (And it’s a longer story but I promise the end will make it worth it.)
I’m in Austin this week for work. Yesterday I left work and headed straight to the gym at my hotel (feeling proud that I have not given up on my New Year’s resolution to get healthy.) I walk and in and head straight for the treadmills.
As I approach, I notice they are all being used. No problem. I’ll do the bike and come back later. But before I even get a chance to walk away, this dude (let’s just call him “Douche Bag” since I don’t know his name) turns his head to look at me.
(Side note: Douche Bag is a bro. You know the type…really fit, the most expensive kind of Lululemon gear you can buy, hair that makes you want to join a frat, probably just called his girlfriend a “bitch”. You know…THAT guy. But anyway — I digress.)
So Douche Bag looks me up and down, sees that I am looking for a treadmill, notices they are all full…STOPS IN MID RUN and gets off the treadmill.
“Wow, that’s nice,” I think to myself.
Douche Bag walks past me, smiles (with his teeth that could only be that white from drinking bleach), and says, “You take it. You need it more than I do.”
Wow.
(I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. How could someone say that to me? Does this guy really not think that I know I am overweight? I mean — I’m at the damn gym. I know. But I decided in that moment that it doesn’t matter. I could have spewed back something to Douche Bag, but I didn’t. I let it roll. I know I’m not fit, but I’m getting there. I’m proud that I’m at the gym.)
I say nothing.
Don’t get me wrong. It was hard. I wanted to punch him. Make fun of his hair. Call him a name. SOMETHING. But I didn’t. I knew his time would come. He would get it back…someday, somewhere. Whatever. I get on the treadmill and exercise anyway — even though I just wanted to leave.
NEXT DAY (this morning).
I wake up EARLY for no reason. Since I’m wide awake already and just laying in bed with my eyes wide open, I decide to head down to the Starbucks that is in the hotel.
So I walk into Starbucks and there’s one other person in there. Yep. It’s Douche Bag.
SHIT. (“Let it go. It’s fine. Don’t worry about him.” All of these things I am saying in my head.)
I walk up to the counter to order. There are two cash registers. I am at the right one, Douche Bag is at the left.
I order my coffee. Douche Bag orders his coffee and oatmeal.
My lady tells me my total. The other lady tells Douche Bag his total.
I hand my lady my card. He hands his lady his card.
My lady swipes and says “thank you”. His lady swipes and says “I’m sorry. Your card is declined.”
“That’s impossible,” Douche Bag says. “Try it again.”
She tries it again. Same story. It’s awkward. Douche Bag only brought one credit card since (I’m guessing) his Lululemon shorts don’t have pockets.
And then…it dawns on me…
I hand the lady a $10 dollar bill to pay for his shit. Douche Bag looks at me, realizes it’s me, looks so embarrassed. Begrudgingly says “thanks” as he realizes it’s his only option.
And I say to the magnificent Douche Bag: “Keep the change. You need it more than I do.”
I take my coffee, walk out the door, and it was SO DAMN HARD not to do a victory dance on the sidewalk.
Subtle slap in the face with a little bit of giving mixed in.
Patrick Munson, 1. Douche Bag, 0.
