Fridays with Fenech: Social Activity Creeping

By Fenech

I touch the screen.

I like this thing.

It’s kind of big, with a little too much bling and my patience could really do without switching tracks every time it flings, but it is what it is – a late Christmas gift – and as much as my old-school sense of technology wanted to sell it, my new-school sense knew that eight gigabytes equaled a lot more than 512 megabytes, won, and I kept it.

Plus, it’s got the internet.

So we’re at the Student Activity Center. Well, I’m there. With my iTouch. She’s working there. With no idea of what I’m about to do with my iTouch.

We’re inside that makeshift fitness room on the downstairs level. I’m sitting on a bike, cycling away and touching away; she’s sitting behind a desk, doing the same nothing I think she does at work everyday.

She catches my eye. I don’t know why.

Now I’m not saying that she’s not good-looking; all I’m saying is that she’s probably not the best-looking girl to work at the SAC and definitely not the best looking to work out there.

But sometimes, catching an eye is all it takes to create a social spy.

So I squint my eyes her way, toward a plate with her name. Again, I don’t know why.

I make out her first name – it’s common, usually spelled one way – but can’t make out the first letter of her last name. It looks like K but might be H and could very possibly be an A. Or is it a J? Wait – that looks nothing like a J. Why am I thinking about a J?

She gets up and takes a walk around the room. I make my move.

I hop off the bike and I should feel creepy. I walk close to the desk and I should feel guilty. But we’re doing the same thing; the only difference is that I’m not getting paid.

She creeps, day after day, sitting behind her desk, waiting until some kid lifts a dumbbell and breaks his neck.

Most of the time, that doesn’t happen. So to pass the time, she watches people work out, never – ever! – passing judgment on the thousands of coeds that filter through the fitness center every day.

Of course.

So I hop back on the bike and I should feel creepy. I palm my iTouch and I should feel guilty. I open Facebook and I should –

Tick, tick-tick-tick … Tick, tick, tick-tick, tick …Tick.

She’s single.

I touch the screen.

I love this thing.