THE YOGA NAZI

Friday night in Vegas. Most folks are having a few drinks, grabbing some dinner, maybe playing the slots. What are we doing? Going to yoga class. Do the Staton's know how to party, or what?

Actually this was the first time we'd attended on Friday night, but our off days changed last week and we've kind of been out of kilter adjusting (btw, apologies for no post last week---when your "Monday" is now Thursday, trust me, it's a bit screwy). So we didn't know who the teacher was supposed to be, but Susie announced herself as a substitute for tonight. With a German accent.

Uh, oh. Here's a shoutout to you, Adrian--you can already guess where this is going. She immediately started to say stuff like "punishment" and "doing crocodiles." We didn't even know what that second one was but the mental image wasn't particularly attractive. It turns out they're the yoga equivalent of pushups. I'm not a big fan of the treadmill, yet I found myself thinking that an hour of that might be paradise compared to what Susie had in store.

As it turned out she was just screwing with us. She led a very pleasant class and was funny as hell. Maybe she is a ball-buster with her regular students though because she said they called her "The Yoga Nazi"---among other things. She constantly threatened us if we were "sloppy," "lazy," or worst of all, "cheating," but only in jest.

When we were doing a Cobra pose she claimed that among other things it was good for your gall bladder. Then she paused and said, "Wow, I had my gall bladder removed two months ago tomorrow. Guess I didn't do enough Cobras!" Here we were trying to be serious and collapsing on the floor with laughter instead.

Later we were doing a pose requiring you to tightly clench your butt cheeks (as I'm writing I realize that if you aren't familiar with yoga postures this all sounds pretty bizarre. Anyway---). She told us to envision having a quarter in our crack and squeezing it hard enough make an imprint (now it's getting kinky--this post isn't going to gain many yoga converts, I'm afraid). Then she warned, "I'll be sending the imprint inspector around at the end of class to check your quarters!," and once again we all "cracked" up.

At the end you always do a guided meditation while lying on the floor with your eyes closed. Susie suggested imagining something blue because that's the color of relaxation. Living here I immediately thought of those Blue Man Group dudes but that didn't seem right. Then I thought of the friggin' Smurfs of all things. The Smurfs?? The Smurfs?? Holy cow, how about a damn sky with a palm tree in front of it! I'M NOT FEELING TOO RELAXED HERE!!!

You know, Susie said she had been teaching yoga here in Vegas for 12 years and I'm guessing she didn't get right off the plane from Germany back then and hustle to her first class. Total command of the language but she's still got that heavy accent. Then I was thinking about Ah-nold--same thing. What is it with these Teutonic folks? And does that voice in their head have an accent too? How about when they dream? H-m-m-m-m--------