Yoga to the (gay) people

Three weeks ago I got a 20 day free membership to David Barton. For those of you who don't know the place, this is the snobbiest (next to Equinox), gayest (again... next to Equinox) and most pretentious gym in Manhattan (again...) or so I think. Anyway, I was really excited about checking the place out. I went on a Tuesday to start my routine, thought I would check out the treadmill... it turned out that the T.V. on the machine wasn't working so I had to run with nothing but the cheesy music from the gym (UGGGH ... #gayboyproblems), after finishing my cardio workout I headed towards the lifting area where I was received by snotty gays and their trainers. Apparently it is forbidden to smile at David Barton, also I did't get the memo stating that while working out I need to look like I'm going to a club. After an hour of looking at people working out with their asses pointing upwards and their pursed lips I decided to check the famous steam room of the famous Chelsea's gym. You can imagine how hilarious it was for me to find out that it was closed due to sanitary violations (you make your own conclusions), so I just took a shower in some really cool shower stall and headed to work. As you can notice by my previous paragraph, I wasn't really pleased with my new gym, but I decided to get the most of it and look at what classes I could take, the only one I had time to do was yoga. Now, I am no stranger to yoga but I believe that one class in Mexico City doesn't make me an expert either. So I arrived (late) to the class and encountered a room with an asian instructor, and 3 other men: a Tibetan (I assume), a black guy and a well formed white guy. I thought to myself: "I'm screwed", because these people seemed to know what they are doing. And sure enough, after 10 minutes of being as graceful as a tyrannosaurus doing butterfly stroke, I was completely soaked in sweat and every time I heard the instructor saying "breathe... feel the oxygen going through your spine" I could only think: "You breathe you asian son of a bitch". In spite of my suffering, I learned a lot in that class; like the fact that downward facing dog position doesn't have anything to do with the somewhat more familiar to me sex position with a similar name, for starters it's way more painful and doesn't come with a happy ending. After an hour, and a gallon of sweat we arrived to the hardest part of the class: "The handstands". The instructor asked if everybody had done one before, and of course as a proud person that I am I said I had and that I could do whatever I was asked. So I pull my mat towards the glass wall and put all my non-existent core strength to work and yes; I almost destroyed the mirror wall while falling into my side. Embarrassed and sad I move my mat towards a solid wall where the instructor made me do kiddy yoga for the rest of the class. Finally the class ended with a couple of OOOOHMSSS where I had to contain myself not to laugh. Overall a memorable experience. I've been doing yoga for 2 weeks now and I still sweat like a hydrant in a summer day in the Bronx but I hope that I'll eventually get to do that damn handstand.