The Egyptian
Posted on July 24, 2006
Filed Under Sport, characters, funny, gym, health, odd |
I went to the gym before work this morning and The Egyptian inspired me to write something. The Egyptian always seems to arrive at the gym just as I’m finishing my workout. It’s impossible to initiate a conversation of any sort because, even though we both favour a particular section of the changing rooms, we’re both taking our clothes off at the same time! What do you say? What can you say? ‘Nice Y-fronts, can you buy them in blue’???
The Egyptian appears to me an enigmatic character. An international man of mystery, if you will, hence the capital letters. One definitely gets the impression there is something colourful in his background. His demeanour exudes an aura of, I’m not sure what, ‘don’t mess with me as I can kill with one hand‘, or ‘leave me alone as I’m living under an assumed identity‘.
I don’t know that he’s actually Egyptian but he looks it (whatever that means). Probably in his early 60’s, he’s not a tall man, maybe only 5ft 6inchs tall. He walks slowly, his back ramrod straight, and his steps are unhurried and deliberate. His thick NHS-type glasses sit on his large arabic nose (whatever that means). He neither looks left or right, just straight ahead with a look of grim determination on his face. His face is deeply lined with age but it’s hard to believe the wrinkles are laughter lines. If he won the lotto, he would just smile ruefully and think ‘God is good‘.
I couldn’t imagine The Egyptian ever showing any outward emotion. Even if he had several glasses of zibib, in the company of his closest confidants, he would stay outwardly calm and process everything through his thick, impenetrable glasses. His wiry, close-cropped, grey-streaked hair is testament to years of endurance, his years of surviving. His small stature, in conjunction with his dress sense, remind me of those various Arabic & East European dictators that would appear on our grainy TV sets during the ’70’s and early ’80’s.
The most memorable thing about The Egyptian, though, is his clothes. Make no mistake, he’s a sharp dresser, even it is a style from a bygone era. One could easily imagine a widowed woman, of a certain age, falling for this perfect gentleman. This morning, he was wearing a light blue linen suit. It was double-breasted and the trouser legs had turn-ups. By length, his trousers fitted him perfectly and he wore a pair of stout, last-a-lifetime, Oxfords. The collar on his (faded-)white shirt was a bit ’70’s and his one-colour tie was also a bit ’70’s. Believe me, at 7.30a.m., nobody wears a tie going into the gym!
The Egyptian is also very precise when he changes into his gym clothes. The trousers come off first. He looks a bit silly (as does any man) as he stands there in his socks and knobbly knees and carefully folds his trousers just so. Once that’s done, they’re hung 50/50 on the hanger. He puts his gym-shorts on next, nakedness is presumably not encouraged in his home country. Once the shorts are adjusted and are hanging at the right height etc, the shirt is next. Again, after the meticulous care and routine, he’s finally left with just his socks to replace. He sits down for this! His gym socks are placed on his right side, within easy reach. He removes a sock from the right foot, folds it just so before placing it in his shoe, before re-covering his foot with the gym sock. After some adjustment, he’s satisfied. Then he repeats the routine on his left foot with the same thoroughness.
Finally, all that’s left is The Egyptian’s training shoes. Or runners as the rest of us call them. The same attention to detail is applied here. Once the shoe is on, he tugs the laces tight, with a final tug just to be sure, before he ties the knot. Then…he’s ready. At this stage, most men do three things: (1) ‘jiggle’ a bit so that our ‘bits’ are in the right place; (2) make sure we have our iPod; and (3) look in the mirror (to remind ourselves why we’re there - sigh). Not so The Egyptian. He knows he’s alright ’cause he’s planned ‘to be here, right here, right now‘. So he just walks out, calmly, with purpose, into the gym where the music is loud, loud, pop music. What a guy!
The more I think about it, he’s definitely a retired Egyptian General living in Ireland under an assumed CIA-created identity. Or he’s a really boring tax accountant. Definitely one or the other.
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