Crap, I lost my head again.

My lack of sleep over the past several days is catching up with me big time today, and I have no mental energy to write creatively. I was all set to replace Flashback Friday with The Friday Five and concoct some list of tid-bitty yoga things, but I only got to three bullet points before my brain gave me an out-of-office message and just checked out. That said, I searched my old journal’s archives for something fun to post and came across this hilarious entry about one of craziest yoga classes I’ve ever taken. 

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Because I’m still in the throes of my personal yoga crisis and deciding what yoga to practice and where, I apprehensively drove to the yoga studio this past Thursday for the vinyasa flow class. And, as if being tested, the minute I entered the studio, there stood two of the “orgasm” ladies, the women who have toothy smiles permanently plastered on their faces, who speak in breathy sighs, and who feel the need to throw in 3 “thank yous” for every door you hold open for them. I walked in as they were discussing macrobiotics, and instantly I felt my blood pressure rise. I actually stood in place for a few seconds, contemplating whether to take off my coat or to just open the door and walk back outside. ::deep breaths:: OK, I’ll stay.

The class turned out to be a lesson in humor and humbleness, because by the end of those 90 minutes, the two women were the last thing on my mind. Here’s a rundown of what happens in a yoga studio on the eve of a full moon:

1. The class, which normally draws in a crowd of 6 to 8 students, suddenly grows to 15. For a small studio, this is a huge surge. Most of the floor is covered in mats, sun salutations have to be modified so our arms don’t clash, and there aren’t enough yoga bricks for everyone.

2. Fifteen minutes into the class, just as we’re emerging from a peaceful meditation, there is commotion at the (locked) front door, which also happens to lead right into the studio. The handle jiggles furiously, a body pushes on the door, and then impatient knocking commences.

3. The teacher unlocks the door and cautiously opens it a sliver, an invitation for a frantic, bundled woman to come barging inside, very loudly exclaiming, “Ohmigod, I thought I’d never get here! The traffic! Whew! Glad I made it!” in the middle of our class. It is 35 degrees outside, and the cold air rushes through the room like a frosty demon.

4. Realizing her faux pas, the woman gasps and apologizes for interrupting. The teacher graciously takes her belongings and fetches her a mat, but then we learn the woman had never even been to the studio before, which means she needs to sign a waiver before participating. Now the teacher needs to fetch the right form and sign the woman in. Oh, and still conduct a class, because class started 15 minutes ago.

5. As soon as the woman gets settled, a car alarm goes off in all its glory outside, like right outside the building. It doesn’t help that the studio is located on the corner of a busy throughway and is already subject to idling trucks, beeping horns, and pedestrian chatter outside. The alarm wails for 2 or 3 minutes, pauses (whew!), but then starts right back up again. This pattern continued for the next hour and 10 minutes.

6. At 6:15, now half an hour into the class, as we’re all sweating our way through sun salutations, a woman, who must’ve silently entered the building from the back door, emerges from the back of the room, yoga mat in hand, and tiptoes through the maze of mats to spread herself out in a cramped corner up front. I think the teacher was so befuddled at this point that she just told the lady to please warm up before doing anything. If things hadn’t been so weird, I’m sure the teacher would have said, “Um, class started 30 minutes ago. I’m sorry, you’ll have to wait for the next class.”

Everything was so obnoxious at that point that it actually became funny. Every time the car alarm paused and then started up again, I couldn’t help chuckling. What could you do at that point? The cool thing, though, was that the SECOND the teacher dimmed the lights for savasana, the car alarm STOPPED. For good. The pure coincidence of it all was enough to make me think that there really is someone up there pulling the strings, having a good time with humanity.