THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SPEAKING

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Logo by Stefan Strasser

 In the Presence of Heavenly Beauty

(From This Is Your Captain Speaking)

 It started out like so many other sweat and strain sessions in the typically poorly equipped hotel exercise room. I would have much rather been outside pounding the pavement on what I rather generously call a run (others would call it a fast walk), but the skies they were a-stormin’, heavy rain and lighting.

As I bemoaned my misfortune while struggling against the resistance of the stationary bike, I reflected that at least the workout room was a little better equipped than the average. It was also larger and had something of a view. It was situated in a glass walled room a half level above the large indoor pool.

But gazing across the tranquil pool water surrounded by beautifully landscaped artificial plants didn’t do much to alter my mood. I was thinking of cutting it short when the door suddenly burst open and I was no longer the sole occupant of the masochist machine parlor. In swarmed what to an unmarried, young man would have been the stuff of his sweetest dreams.

I was neither unmarried nor all that young, but my heart skipped a few beats then sped up significantly and not due to the exercise. Chatting in a language I didn’t recognize and laughing in a language everyone understands, in strolled fourteen (I counted) of the most gorgeous Scandinavian young women I had ever seen; that’s counting live, TV, movies, or otherwise. They must have been there for a beauty contest.

Their attire, though different for each girl, was similar in that it was fashionable, expensive, very well fitting, and brief in each and every case.

Settling into their exercise routines, they paid little attention to me except to offer brief smiles and almost-nods upon initial eye contact, in keeping with perfect workout room etiquette. And though I had every reason to be in no way interested in them, it suddenly struck me that I shouldn’t give in to my assault of laziness. No indeed, I should in fact stay a while and get a really good workout.

For some strange reason, I even felt compelled to attack my exercise efforts with greater vigor than normal. I rotated from one station to another using considerably more weight than usual and doing more repetitions. Just at the point where my vision was beginning to blur and I was probably on the verge of a coronary or stroke, I looked out through the glass and saw strolling along the edge of the pool a woman, a lady, far more beautiful than even the most attractive of the group in the exercise room.

She moved in a manner that quietly spoke of inner peace, strength and tranquility. She carried her head at just that angle that signals a certain innate nobility, chin not so high as to appear haughty but certainly not drooping in the style of the slovenly. Her smile, while understated, was luscious, exquisite.

Truly enraptured by the inexpressible beauty of the lady by the pool, I totally forgot the gang of giggling blond bimbos, as my frantic pace on the stair-stepper slowed to a jerking halt. The lady stopped her stroll and gazed up at the young women in the exercise room. Her regal aura took on the look of one remembering something sweet but in no way regretful of its having passed.

Her hand trembled a little as she steadied herself on the railing. She must have been well into her late eighties, if not older. But her age had served only to increase her special beauty that shone from within.

Back in my room lying on the floor panting, trying to catch my breath, I pondered what it was that was so special about the lady by the pool. I really couldn’t quite grasp it. However, I do know if I were given the opportunity to spend some time with one (or even all) of the Scandinavian beauties or the lady by the pool, I would, without hesitation, choose the lady by the pool.

This thought gave me little solace as I staggered to my feet knowing that I would pay dearly with muscle soreness for my little while in the presence of physical beauty way beyond what should be the legal limit.

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