There Still Are Good People in the World

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Originally uploaded by jclutter.

Last night, as I do many nights after work, I went to dance class. Last night it was jazz and although it started out slow at first we ended with an awesome routine to that song everyone knows from "Hustle and Flow".

The class ran late and the next teacher was ready to come in. Out in the hall there were people everywhere, all waiting for the assorted hip-hop classes that all seem to start after 9:00 PM. I scooped up all my gear, bag, coat, clothes and all, and headed up to the women's locker room.

In the locker room I started sorting through everything and I realized I didn't have my jeans. I figured I probably dropped them en route up to the locker room. But when I retraced my steps, they weren't there. All I found were about 40 or so young dancers, splayed out all over the floor, waiting for their classes. It was obvious that I dropped the pants, but had someone picked them up? Were they buried under someone's enormous puffy coat?

I went back and forth between the studios and the locker room, at one point announcing to the entire locker room that I was missing a pair of Citizen of Humanity jeans and a spiky black belt. I actually elicted some pity once the girls heard they were Citizen jeans. But still, no acutal pants.

Someone suggested that I check the Lost and Found, in case someone turned them in. I thought that was impossible, because I had abrely been missing them for 10 minutes. Plus, these were Citizen jeans in a size that pretty much anyone could fit into. At $200 a pop, I doubt anyone would return a missing pair.

Nevertheless I went to the front desk and told them I was forlorn because I lost my pants. The young guy at the counter said, "What kind of belt was on them?" When I said, "Spiky!" He pulled my jeans out of a wooden box.

My Citizens and I were reunited...and it felt so good. (Mostly because I knew I wouldn't have to buy another pair!)

Anyhow, on the way home I noticed something: I noticed the calm that had overcome my body, and it wasn't just because I had my pants back. It was the same kind of calm, high, if you will, that I used to feel after running. After running five miles or so I would shower and wash the sweat from my eyes. In the summertime I would often curl up in my apartment, AC blaring and eat cucumbers while watching movies on HBO. No one was around to bother me and I kind of liked that.

I came home last night, poured myself a bowl of raisin bran and sat for a while, just me and my flakes. You don't always need the TV on in the background or a magazine to flip through. Sometimes eating cereal in a sweaty tank top is enough.

Back when I first hurt my back I thought I would get fat and puffy because I wouldn't be able to exercise as intensely as I did while running. After getting better at dance, I'm realizing this is balderdash. The better I get at it, the more I'll sweat and get stronger, just like I did when I was running.

And the better I'll look in my Citizens.