Pulling yourself in public

For weeks I've been jocking the Tony Dapolito Rec Center (formerly known as the Carmine Street Rec Center) at the corner of Carmine and 7th Ave. For an annual membership of $70, you have access to an indoor pool (and outdoor during the summer), two basketball courts, weight room, treadmills, stationary bikes, and even a computer center. That is absolutely the deal of the century. Or so I thought.

Recently I've noticed that homeless people swim in the pool without showering first. At first I was skeezed out, but after thinking about how much chlorine they put in that pool, I figured it's no big deal. Changing in the locker room with post-swim homeless dudes isn't the gnarliest thing I've ever done. Not even close.

But the other day, I think I may have hit my limit. While throwing my stuff into a locker, I heard someone groaning. My initial reaction was that someone was taking a painful #2 and having some intense GI issues. The groaning kept up, though, and when I went into the shower area to wash off before getting in the pool, in the corner was a portly man, facing the corner, making all that noise. By looking at where his hands were, I could tell he was polishing his knob.

My first thought was BARF, closely followed by my second thought, which was yelling at the guy to stop yanking his wank. Isn't it rude to masturbate in public places? The last thing I wanted to happen, though, was for him to turn around mid-jerk and look at me with a hard-on. No thanks. So I turned and went straight for the pool.

There was a recent article in nymag about public sex. I hadn't witnessed any of it. I think the article jinxed me. Damn you nymag.com!