Melissa and I are tearing things up on the treadmills when this older gentleman takes roost at the mill to my right.
Shortly thereafter, we notice a repugnant smell.
“Bed of roses” is not even close.
We try not to gag as we round out the second mile.
I look over my shoulder and the man is sweating like two rats in a wool sock; very Flashdance-esque.
Finally he and his stench leave.
I look over at the treadmill.
It’s covered in sweat. Stinky sweat. And it’s creator is no where in sight. (sometimes one needs to wander to find a spray bottle/wiping towel)
The man left his sweat all over the console, only to pool in the magazine/book holder.
I am so not kidding when I say that I almost threw up.
Gym Etiquette 101: ALWAYS WIPE DOWN YOUR MACHINE.