Some things just can't be unseen

I'm supposed to be swimming laps right now. The LA Triathlon is in a week and a half and I'm deep into the homestretch of trying to cram myself into decent shape but I can't bring myself to go to the pool tonight.

Last week I had the kind of horrific experience one can't easily forget.

I had finished my swim and all was well. It was when I entered the locker room that things took a turn for the worst.

For the record, I've been going into locker rooms for a good 25 years now and I like to think that I have mastered the art of locker room etiquette. For guys it's pretty simple. Always keep your eyes up and the chatter to a minimum until underpants are being worn.

I can only think of two previous times in my life where these long standing rules have been broken.

The first time was at a birthday pool party in the 6th grade. In the locker room of the YMCA it was discovered and pointed out by Mike Miguel that Chad, a kid who already stood 5' 7" and weighed solid buck fifty, had a full rack rack of pubes. What can I say? We were kids and we were in awe about standing next to a 12-year-old who was a full grown man.

The second time was in the 8th grade. A kid named Travis Schwager was not only the new kid in school but also the strangest freak of nature any of us had ever met. To this day, Travis is still at the top of my list of freaks. He was so strange he was amazing and I'm seriously at a loss of words for how to describe him. The main things you need to know right now is that Travis was so pale he was translucent, his bright red hair was crafted into a perfect bowl cut and the first day of 8th grade gym class he hit the showers with one hand holding a small towel to cover his gear.

In the shark tank that is an 8th grade locker room that was so not the smart thing to do and Travis really didn't help his cause by crying every time the water hit his skin.Even the most modest of growers now had somebody to pick on. We were all so intrigued about what could have been lurking under that terry cloth shroud that even our gym teacher got into the act by ordering Travis to scrub up with both hands. Somehow though, he managed to keep that towel in place.

Now let's go back to last week's locker room...

I'm walking out of the shower and encounter a doughy but rather flexible naked guy standing precariously on a bench bent completely over and rummaging through his bag. Right away I knew this was a sight I've never seen before and that would include the glimpse a foot and a half up his butthole. Seriously, it was the sort of gruesome thing that will someday break the internet and I wouldn't be exaggerating that much if I told you I saw the backs of his molars.

I wanted to say something but couldn't since my brain was trying in vain to remember the PIN number to its self destruct sequence.

The Rabbi who came out of the shower a few steps behind me (Scout's honor on that one) couldn't contain his curiosity and asked this chap what exactly he was doing.

"I don't want to get my feet dirty on this floor."

Um, excuse me?

Someone doesn't want get their feet dirty?

The same someone who just spent an hour swimming in a public swimming pool that's housed inside a public school and is the same someone who just took a shower in said public school?

Oh sorry to burst your bubble Mr. Someone but you've been breathing disease the moment you stepped foot on campus. Trying to keep your feet clean by standing on a spot where naked asses have sat for decades really isn't going to help your personal hygiene.

Instead, the only thing you've accomplished is frightening total strangers.

If I drown during the triathlon it's going to be all your fault.