Unyogic moments.

I opted out of asskicking, er, kickboxing, last night and went back to the lovingkindness of my yoga studio. Except, it wasn't really all that lovingkind last night due to the BAD ENERGY factor of the chick sitting/laying/rolling around next to me.

She was new to class, and her husband too. Let's call her Valerie, because hell, that was her name. Val and her husband were all picture-perfect yoga-y with their fancy mats and yoga props and tie-dye outfits and biodegradable water bottles. (Fuck. Whatever. I like all that stuff too.) Now, usually most of us come in, lay down our mats, sit cross-legged, and chat with our neighbors while we wait for class to begin. They come in, lay down their mats, and whip out props and asanas and fancy breathing exercises, well before the class even begins.

(OK, I'm trying to set you up with an image here. Bear with me.)

One thing I love about my yoga class (and my teacher) is that it's a really good strong balanced Vinyasa practice, with serious instruction, but at the same time it's also laid-back and fun and people are encouraged to laugh and just go with it.

(Although last night a guy burst forth an enormous toot during a spinal roll and nobody laughed then.)

Anyway, once class got going, my teacher came over and made an adjustment to Val's pose (I believe it was down dog), to which Val responded, very loudly and very snippily, "I would appreciate it if you didn't touch me without my permission!"

I know this is normally a pretty reasonable request, you know, if you happen to walk down the sidewalk and someone random goes in for a hug. But c'mon now, I have never ever been to a yoga class where the teacher didn't make any hands-on adjustments. That's just the way yoga is. And please! It's not like she grabbed her va-jay-jay either. So after this, the chick proceeded to snarl and sneer all through her practice, tossing around her bad vibes like Luke Skywalker and that laser thingy he wields (OK sci-fi dorks, give it up, what's it called?!). She even moved her blanket away from me because I was touching it. And here I was, thinking she was SUCH a true yogi, what with all her expert-looking moves and gear.

Still, it doesn't top this unyogic moment: my mom was driving once and was on the receiving end of some serious road rage from another woman driver. Once my mom got to the traffic light and was next to the woman, she discovered that the lady with the case of road rage was none other than her YOGA TEACHER, whom she knew very well.

I know the true yogic thing to say/think is that yogis are people too. But hello? The irony is not lost on anyone.