That's the deuce deuce baby! : my fear of Baltimore

Sorry to those of you out there who have been keeping up with my blog on a consistent basis, I know that I haven't really written much since returning from Ecuador. The problem is just that in Ecuador pretty much every day I had pure gold to write about. I mean there were lots of things I never even found the time to write about even when I was writing just about every other day.

Things are more limited here in the states though. There have been a number of things that happened in the hospital that would be hilarious to write about, but there can be problems with writing about events in the hospital and I plan to avoid it.

So anyway I'll move on now with the deuce deuce entry...

So I'm going to Baltimore next year for residency. I'm pretty psyched about everything involved with that except well baltimore itself... See I've never actually lived in a real city city. I have generally preferred things like the mountains, the outdoors, biking, running, swimming. I've never really been as much into crack, prostitutes, things like that. Which is kinda surprising because I'm going to baltimore and I'll definitely be there for three years.

I'm not sure why but just the idea of moving to baltimore makes me think of this story from when I was about 16:

So when I was younger, my sport was always swimming. I was a backstroker. I have no idea how i ended up getting into it, it was just what I was good at. I was also a nerd. I mean I still am now, but more in secret now in comparison to then. Then I was obviously a nerd. I was a good swimmer because I was tall and practiced a lot, but I was quite gangly and uncoordinated, with glasses and this horrible bouffant like hair that just kinda poofed up off my head. And also shy, quite different than I am now.

So after swim practice one day at the county recreation center I was lifting weights. There I was, pale, gangly, and new to lifting weights; struggling to bench press two fifty pound dumbbells while lying on the bench. It's important to realize as well that this is the local county rec center and not some fancy ass golds gym or anything. I mean for the most part I was surrounded by little old ladies in leotards that were way to tight and old men in grey sweat suits throwing medicine balls around. Except for this one guy, seated two benches over from me. He was huge. He had to be in his late thirties, but he was gigantic. One of those guys who loves to toss out those "psssssst" noises with every repetition they do with the weights.

I'm quietly sitting on my bench two benches over from this dude, when at the end of his set he throws his weights down to the floor in a clatter and all the sudden loudly yells in my direction:

"YEAH! THAT'S THE DEUCE DEUCE BABY!"

At first I didn't think he was talking to me. Even though he was staring directly at me with his proptotic eyes and veins screaming through his forehead, I slowly turned my head around behind me to see no one behind me but a cinderblock wall. I slowly brought my head back around and he was still staring directly at me, sweat pouring down his face and his chest heaving with every respiration... eyes wide open and focused on me. and then it happened again:

"THAT'S RIGHT! THAT'S THE MOTHERFUCKING DEUCE DEUCE!"

He yelled again directly at me.

I said absoluely nothing and just stared back blankly at him. I really had no idea what was going on, I looked around at other patrons at the gym and everyone else seemed to be actively ignoring what was going on.

I looked back and he was still staring directly at me saying nothing.

"I'm sorry?" I said

"THATS THE DEUCE DEUCE!" He yelled again, and motioned to the floor where the dumbbells lay.

I looked down and saw he was lifting two 100 pound dumb bells when he was benching. It took me a couple minutes to realize that deuce deuce was referring to the weight he was lifting. I mean I got that he was lifting a total of 200 pounds, but it seemed to make no sense that there were two deuces being used, since it was two one hundred pound weights, not two 200 pound weights. I didn't really bring that point up though.

"THATS THE DEUCE DEUCE!" he yelled at me again....

"yeah, ummm thanks... got it, I got it."

he then appeared mildly annoyed, but somehow a little satisfied, and laid back down on the bench to go back to "pssssst"ing. And I just sat there...not really knowing what to do.

And I'm not really sure why, but somehow, when I think of baltimore I think of that dude. I really can't completely explain it. I haven't thought of that story in years, but something about baltimore just makes me think of that story