For Cycle Oregon: The Weekend, we camped at Sisters Junior High School, showering in the gym locker room. The showers, therefore, were a prison-like communal affair. By the time I finished the ride on Saturday afternoon, the locker room was full of paunchy middle-aged men (the young, fit men, I assume, having finished much earlier), trying to avoid eye contact. We'd all spent the past 6 or more hours crammed into spandex cycling shorts; on top of that, there was no hot water. As you might imagine (or try desperately not to), none of us looked our best.
I finished my cold shower in record time. As I made my way toward the lockers across the wet, soapy concrete floor, my feet suddenly slipped out from under me, and I lay spread-eagle, naked, in front of a dozen farmer-tanned new friends.
The funny thing, in retrospect (I didn't laugh at the time), was the reaction. As I hit the floor, I could hear several of them groan sympathetically -- "Owwww!" -- but as they inquired as to my well-being, they all maintained a healthy distance: "Are you OK... over there?" Yes, I'm fine, and thank you for not touching me. :-)
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