LA Fitness (email): “Perrin, we want you back! Sales pitch, blah, blah, blah…”

Perrin: “Funny. I got the distinct impression you did not want me. You want my money. I want a real gym.”

I wasn’t being mean, just honest. I was once a member. Earlier this morning, with the above solicitation in mind (and phone), I went to a Signature Club to investigate a possible renewable and return. At the very least I would like somewhere to workout this week.

This matter is pretty simple, really. They are a gym. I exercise. I was a member. I am not now. I could be again. They say they want me back. I went in to check.

It wasn’t simple for the ladies at the front desk. Either they are simply simple, under the influence, or possibly English deficient. I left and won’t be back as my after-the-visit reply insinuated.

LAF is a good enough facility for what it is: a place of women, children, and homo/metros to do whatever it is that they do instead of training. It also provides another place for tattooed Jersey Shore boys to display their obnoxious uselessness. Homeless cart-pushers seem to enjoy the adjacent sidewalks.

No place for me. No worries. There are at least 100 gyms in this city. I suspect one or two might cater to men and do so in fluent, lucid English. If not, there’s the free course down at the beach.

The foregoing was neither the payback nor the smoke. LAF-able does have mirrors – for the congregants’ hair styling, etc. Anyway, I was just explaining.

The smoke comes from the Big Payback: the 8X80, monster Jaquemate Torpedo by Room 101 which I procured at Davidoff. Back for another day’s typing in cigar paradise!

Roughly the size of a Louisville Slugger.

For a behemoth, the 101-BPB is rather manageable. The torpedo tapering translates to easy smoking.  The all-Nica construction means earthy, spicy happiness. It burns well and draws easy. It’s a shade beyond “medium”. And the FLA price is reasonable. As a bonus it should get me through this post and several other articles, maybe even part of a project.

And, of course, neither Room 101 nor Davidoff had to tell me they wanted me back. That goes without saying. Maybe fitness clubs should emulate the cigar industry. The front desk wouldn’t understand that. Or much else.

God morning!