I’m going to let all your readers in on a not-so-glamourous secret of mine. I go to Zumba. It all started a few months ago when I decided that I wanted to see what this whole “Zumba thing” was about. I went to the class, hid in the back row and assumed it was just a bunch of out of shape older women trying to relive their clubbing days. Well, I was wrong. Most of these people could drop it low better than me and their hips did not lie (while mine clearly did). I laughed (at myself), enjoyed the music and burned off some stress. To my surprise, I left a bit sweaty and definitely elevated my heart rate and torched a few calories.

Since then, I have been going to Zumba once a week when I want a fun workout that goes by fast. Last weekend, I decided to try Zumba at a different gym than the one I had been consistently going to, and that my friends, is where today’s hilarious tale begins.


I stood outside the doors of the exercise room waiting for the previous class to exit. I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a man in his early fifties, holding a reusable bag with a laptop in it. “This guy cannot be in the Zumba instructor,” I thought. Now, I have had awesome male Zumba instructors before so I was not discriminating, but there was something about this guy that just seemed off.

I go in the class and pick a spot along the back row. Sure enough, laptop man is the instructor. He sets up his archaic laptop (typically most teachers just bring a iPod or iPhone) and tells us he is filling in for the usual teacher. He casually mentions that for those who have been to his Zumba class before, they will know what to expect. I had never been to his class and never, ever could have even expected what I was in for.

He begins with a “warm up,” which was to some weird, super fast, underground sounding, Spanish rap song. He proceeds to flail around the room as if he is at some sort of rave or tripping out on something. Everyone is struggling to keep up with these moves, which he appears to be making up on the spot as he goes.

Instantly, I begin looking for the television cameras. This must be a joke. Am I on Punk’d? Where’s Ashton? (Side note: Hopefully my readers are old enough to remember the hit MTV show Punk’d) Nope, this is all real and all happening.

We move from the “warm up” to another song I have never heard at Zumba before and proceed to do moves I have never seen at Zumba or on any dance floor for that matter. One move involved us simultaneously patting our heads and rubbing our stomachs, and another involved us running around the room with our arms spread out, soaring like eagles.


His moves were so fast and obscure that no one could keep up. Everyone was bumping into each other and struggling to figure out what to do next. At one point, someone even walked out, giving up.

Just when I thought I had seen it all, he starts doing the robot. As I look around, while doing the robot and watching others do the same, I am flabbergasted. I can only describe the experience by referencing The Fault in Our Stars when Hazel and Gus visit Peter Van Houten and he plays them the obscure Swedish rap song Bomfalleralla. Hazel and Gus for a moment think that Mr. Van Houten is joking, playing some sort of trick on them, and then they realize that this is their reality. Well, me doing the robot on a Saturday morning was my reality.

I just also have to note that the workout room our class we held in was built with floor to ceiling windows that allowed patrons of the gym to see us and the door (that was open) was right across from the men’s change room. A few times I stole a glance out to the gym, where normal people were doing normal workouts and saw their confused and pitying glances inward at a bunch of women moving confused and bewildered around the room completely out of sync. Men walking to the change room, stopped and peered their heads in and then left before the second hand embarrassment sank in.

I survived the class and returned to the change room. Among the chatter of women who were in the class were people muttering that the class was “unique” and “intense” and that the moves were “different and bit too fast”.  I wanted to turn around and ask, “Okay, WTF just happened?” but realized I was surrounded by a group of such polite women that no one would dare say anything negative. It was then that I smiled to myself and thought, “Well, I know a group of readers that will appreciate this experience.”

Have you ever experienced any WTF moments at the gym?'
Written by Tracey