I loved the gym. It had all the free weights I needed for a five a. m. workout. Only a dozen or so regulars showed up at this early hour. Most worked out in heavy sweatpants and hoodies. The gym halfway to work on my commute was located under a small strip mall. This subterranean studio ensured the gym was cold all year.
With a consistent small group each morning, the gang shower situation was less intimidating. I often had the tiled room with a dozen showerheads to myself. My eyesight was poor and I never wore my glasses into the shower room.
One morning I was rinsing my hair when I heard a man hopping across the tiles. Without glancing at him, I asked, “Did you step on something? Is there broken glass?”
He didn’t respond. I looked in his direction just in time to see his right fist flying in my direction. I ducked it just in time.
“What the??” I finally looked at the angry man standing naked beside me.
“You are heartless man. Absolutely heartless. I’m a veteran man.”
I violated the one rule of gang showers and looked down. The man’s right leg was amputated below his knee.
“That was heartless. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
The tension passed between us. We became friends over the coming weeks.