Mclane Journal Entry #1 – Friday, September 9th

I spent my entire day taking care of my work in the studio and decided not to trek to Mclane

However, I do have a pretty good (and over-dramaticized) idea of how it would have gone.

 

I’d walk into the front door of the fitness center and sputter, overcome with the suffocating aroma of chlorine, B.O., and overheated rubber. Looking around, I would notice that the facility is not nearly as populated as it is during the weekdays; I’d figure the other students must be winding down for the weekends or getting ready for their “weekend events.”

Must be they haven’t heard the thing about binge drinking and how it negates your progress at the gym.

I’d continue to the pool doors only to find that the handle will not budge. For the 4th day in a row I would miss the open swim hours because I had much more important things on my mind than memorizing that god-forsaken hour-long window of time they have open swim every day.

Giving up on the pool idea, I’d venture down the stairs to the Gibbs Fitness Center and glance through the window. I would practically be able to hear all of the neanderthal-like grunting and the dropping of weights (maybe several Spartan war cries as well). As I’m not one who likes loud obnoxious environments and societal stereotypical displays of masculinity, I’d continue down the hallway to a side door; this leads to a winding steel staircase and two enclosed wood-paneled rooms.

As per usual, I’d find myself opening and closing the doors, enjoying the eerie creaks and groans that the rusted hinges gasp and echo around the dimly lit rooms. They smell incredibly musty, as if the space had not been used for months, possibly years considering the lack of upkeep.

After getting my horror-aesthetic fix for the day, I’d move on to the Joyce & Walton Annex and do a few loops around the upper track, looking down periodically.

On one side I’d observe the Alfred University Quidditch team practicing, tackling each other and throwing a multitude of game balls around the room, whereas on the opposite end a few pickup basketball games were in session on the open courts.

At this point I’d likely be tired, sick of people and how they smell when they sweat, and ready to go back to my dorm or the studio.

I hope this was even partially amusing or ridiculous; exploring the space mentally actually helped me recall a few very vivid details about the building so I suppose the adventure, although within my mind, wasn’t entirely unproductive.

-J.D.

 

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