I can guarantee it will hit me in the face. I don't care if I'm in a concert venue with thousands of other music lovers, I know the moment they release those beach balls, I'm going to get hit in the face with one-hard like volleyball spiking hard. Yes, I've been hit with a pool ball during a vicious game of "Crud". If it's round, has the word "ball" in it and can sail in the air, my face has seen contact with that object.
Today was no different. My daughter participates in a basketball clinic at our local YMCA. We go, toss the ball around, she gets bored about 8 minutes in and falls to the floor crying until I carry her out (best $35 I ever spent). Afterwards, I leave her at the child care center while I work on narrowing my chins down to just one.
All the cardio machines had someone huffing and puffing on them, thus I was forced to go back to "Studio 2" which houses all the Indo Row machines. These are glammed up rowing machines that use water basins to help with your workout. It's nice to hear the whoosh of water as you pretend to row a boat. Anyhow, you sit on a seat which moves forward and back. Pull on a bar to mimic the oars and you just row away. They're a great workout, the machines are expensive to replace but worth every penny. Pair this with some good tunes on my IPod and I felt like I was moving down the river, sweating my butt off and enjoying a workout.
Enter Joey, Bobby and Johnny plus Dad. Each had a basketball. Each had the determination to turn Studio 2 into their half-court. When they all started dribbling the balls, I was mildly irritated. My zen felt broken with each thud. Plus, those kids can't dribble the ball to save their lives! I mean, I'm no basketball player and, hell, I'm a girl but I would have mopped the floor with them. Anyhow, the dribbling became passing, which turned into shooting which ended up into some kind of weird drill where Dad had them passing the ball from behind their backs.
Now, let me reiterate that Studio 2 is not a basketball court. It's a room with one wall of mirrors and one wall of glass window. There's a sound system, complete with 4 speakers up front and 3 paintings hanging on a third wall. Each corner of the room has a 3-foot-tall vase full of decorative branches. Along the back wall are 14 other Indo Row machines, each on their "head" waiting for someone to take it down and put it on the floor. I was on a machine in the far left quadrant of the room, under a ceiling fan, blissful.
As a mother, if I had 3 kids who wanted to throw some balls around, I would not choose this room. But, Dads are different, I suppose. I tried to ignore the coaching, passing and bouncing of the balls...until I got smacked right in the face. Because I'm holding the handlebars, I couldn't block it or deflect it in any way. No one yelled a warning and I got "Marsha'ed" right in the nose.
Immediately, I stopped rowing. "are you kidding me?"
Dad looks and says "whoops. They're kids."
Me: is the gym full or something?
Dad: yeah.
Me: there's a lot of equipment in here, you need to take it out into the hallway or locker room
Dad: c'mon, they're kids. Don't get dramatic.
I get punched in the face with a basketball, i explain there should not be basketballs in my vicinity and I'm being told I'm dramatic?!
Meanwhile, Johnny throws a ball it it knocks a machine over. He retrieves the ball and CONTINUES to throw it around. I don't know why I snapped, I just know I did because I'm in Dad's face telling him he needs to move on. I don't think he expected me to get out of the machine, much less get into his face in front of his boys. I'm a little surprised I did it myself. I don't remember much of what I said. I know I called him "Douchy McKnit-hat" (cause really, it's 82 degrees in the gym, you need to wear a knitted hat?) and I told him to keep walking. He came back with the standard "you're a bitch" but left nonetheless.
I told management about it. I'm irked that there was no apology. No "oh, man this is a bad idea". Instead, I'm a bitch because I got hit in the face by a hard basketball in a room full of breakable equipment, NOT a basketball court and I dared to get pissed about it.
More than likely, I will get hit in the face with another errant ball. My only hope is that nothing will be broken. As for the Asshat, I'll see him again next week. Our kids are in the same program. I plan on having Katie hit him in the junk with her basketball. You know, 'cause she's a kid. It'll be okay.
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