No. 164 – Sabotage

Performer: The Beastie Boys

Songwriters: Adam Horovitz, Paul van Dyk, Adam Yauch, Mike Diamond

Original Release: single, Ill Communication

Year: 1994

Definitive Version: None.

OK, so maybe I have one rap song on this here list, after all, although Sabotage is about as much of a rap song as Sunshine of Your Love, which is to say, it isn’t.

When I switched from tapes to CDs as my preferred form of music in the 1990s, I stubbornly continued to grip the past technology in one venue—the gym. A Discman just isn’t practical when your body is in different positions and angles.

So I continued to make workout tapes into the 21st Century. Typically, I’d start slow, build to a crescendo and finish with something quiet and long to accompany the cool-down walk on the track.

During my cool-down walks I’d work out the problems of the day, week or month, or just daydream. For a long time, I had the entire storyline of a TV series worked up, all in my noodle. Maybe someday I’ll commit it to paper, but I doubt it. The moment where I would play the lead (why not make fantasy as compelling as possible) has passed, so it isn’t as interesting to me as it used to be.

Sometimes … I’d just check out the scenery, and sometimes—being at a gym—it was quite good. About the time that I had this song on regular play on my Walkman in 2002, I began to notice—as did pretty much every straight male or gay female at my particular gym—this very tall, very fit, very blonde blonde.

She was nigh impossible not to notice. She always dressed the same—tight black leggings with a thick black belt and a yellow sports bra that exposed abs you could bounce a quarter on. She looked like she would just as soon slit your throat ear to ear as she might sex you to death.

She also always worked out with other people who looked like they couldn’t possibly be friends with her outside the gym. It would be like Blake Lively working out with Jonah Hill. (I was going to say Brigitte Nielsen, which is a much closer comp to this woman’s appearance, but I decided to current it up.)

Anyway, one day I was in cool-down mode while she stretched pre-workout in an area along the top of the track. When I passed, she looked up—right at me—and smiled. I immediately checked my face, my shirt, my pants for any evidence of something I should be mortified over, but found none. Wait, was she really smiling … at me?

I couldn’t be sure, but this was no time for hesitation. It was time for action. OK, she was still there. When I pass by this time, if she looks up and smiles again, I’m going over to talk to her. This might never happen again, so what do I have to lose?

Sure enough she did look up, and like I knew her from way back when, I went right up and introduced myself and struck up a conversation—with no awareness that every other guy at the gym was trying to figure out who that schlub was. Her name was Briana.

We talked for a bit, and when I couldn’t think of anything else witty to say, I asked Briana out. I told her I was a food reviewer at The Dispatch (true) and that I was checking out this restaurant nearby for lunch (also true) and I would be interested in her joining me (undoubtedly true). She smiled but declined.

Hey, I gave it a shot. I saw Briana several more times at the gym afterward, and we always exchanged hellos and chatted a bit on occasion, but I never asked her out again. I don’t know whether she was attached or played for the other team or just not interested. I know it didn’t matter.

What mattered was that I approached her at all. Hey, you know, approaching hot women isn't that hard if I can do it. This could be something I apply elsewhere, like, say, that hot new intern on the copy desk who comes out to The Thurman every once in a while …