Mixing business and pleasure

Last week I had to go on a business trip. At the end of the week, boyfriend T was able to join me, so together we headed off for a fun weekend next to the sea. But can anyone work out where we were from the pictures below? And for extra marks, in the bottom picture can anyone say what the tents on the beach were for?

David Barton

I started going to the gym regularly a long time ago. Over the years I've noticed that I go through phases of good levels of attendance, with occasional phases of lower attendance when I get hit by heavy workloads, business trips, holidays, injuries or illness. Since I joined my new gym though, I've been going through a particularly good phase, so in anticipation of my forthcoming business trip I was keen to find a way to try and keep it up while in New York.

"Do you know of any good gyms in NYC?" I asked boyfriend P a couple of weeks ago before my trip.

"I'm sure there are loads," he replied, "It depends what you want?"

"Well somewhere interesting would be nice, perhaps in Chelsea? Isn't that where all the gay guys hang out these days?"

"Maybe you should try the David Barton gym then? From what I've heard it's very gay and full-on, with lots of porn stars, escorts and celebs going there!"

Perfect :-). Sounds exactly like the kind of place that a disreputable blogger like me should be seen at!

So on my second evening in New York, I get my first surprise when I turn up outside the David Barton gym in Chelsea. It's in an old YMCA building! Once inside, a charming young woman shows me round the main gym areas.

"The cardio equipment and the studios for classes are all here on the main floor," she explains, "and the weights are all down in the basement. Actually tonight is a good night to visit because there's a DJ :-)."

I've certainly never heard of that before, a gym with a DJ mixing up rhythms to exercise to!

The changing rooms turn out to be on the first floor. Although I'm not quite sure where to go, I spot MEN painted in huge two feet high letters on one of the walls so I follow the wall round into the changing rooms. It seems very empty in there, and then suddenly I get a shock. I spot a woman who's just about to take off her gym shoes! But what on earth is a woman doing in the men's changing rooms, unless ... ? I hastily retreat, only to be greeted by another woman who's entering as I'm leaving:

"Excuse me, are you lost?" she asks with a tone of voice which suggests mild irritation.

"Errrr, yes, I think so!" I reply, not sure what to say. Somehow I've obviously ended up in the women's changing rooms :-(.

But how on earth did I make that mistake? Looking again at the MEN painted in huge letters on the wall, I realise all too late that when I spotted it I'd already walked past the first two letters of the word, namely the 'W' and the 'O'! Putting my error down to mild jet lag, I take the other path now and thankfully find myself inside the Men's changing rooms. In contrast to the women's locker room it's very crowded.

I end up going for a 20 minute run before heading down into the basement to find the free weights. The floor at the bottom of the stairs is packed full of exercise machines, with a huge rack of free weights along the back wall, and a big old YMCA sign propped up along one of the other walls. As I wander around to get my bearings, I realise that it's 99% men, if not more. Some are chatting with each other, but many more are single guys spending a good proportion of their time looking at all the other guys, including me! Coupled with the beat of the DJ's music I realise that I could be in a gay dance club, at the start of the evening when the music is less hardcore.

On cue, I notice a couple of well built guys joking with each other in the free weights area. Both are wearing quite skimpy gym vests, which certainly show off their huge muscles to good effect. They put their arms around each other ballroom dancing style, and then move their legs backwards and forwards while looking at themselves in the mirrors, as one of them tries to teach the other guy something. Somehow it seems perfectly in tune with the relaxed cruisey gay atmosphere. This definitely isn't a straight gym!

After my workout I head back to the changing rooms, wondering whether there are any spa facilities. Sure enough, at the back of the shower area I find a steam room. Inside the steam is really thick, so thick that I find myself bumping into another guy who's standing right next to me. Gradually the steam clears slightly, and I notice that there's seating at two levels along the walls. Most guys are wearing towels around their waist, although a couple of the guys who're seated have let their towels slip a bit, allowing the rest of us a peek at their wares :-). Just as the steam seems to have cleared enough to be able to see one end of the room from the other, I hear the hissing of fresh steam again as the next cycle begins.

In my experience, for cruising purposes this very thick steam is simultaneously a hindrance and a blessing. The problem with it is that it's hard to make contact with other like-minded guys, because when one can hardly see the guy who's standing next to you eye-contact is obviously difficult too! However the good thing about very thick steam is that if one does find a willing participant, no one else can see what you get up to, which makes activities possible even in quite crowded circumstances.

After a couple of steam cycles I head for the showers. I'm meeting boyfriend P for supper in a restaurant a few blocks away and I don't want to be late. But I certainly found my visit to the David Barton gym in Chelsea very enjoyable. If I ever move to live over in New York for a while, I might even become a member!

Another business trip outside of the UK

Last year, on one of the business trips that I took outside of the UK, I took a photograph of an infamous gay establishment and posted it to see whether any readers could identify it. I was very impressed, because it only took a couple of hours for someone to work it out. Since then however, this blog has changed its focus a bit, so that I now tend to write less about the aspect of my life that might involve me visiting places like that!

Anyway, the reason for last Monday's post about long haul flights was that business class travel was in my mind as a result of another business trip. But can anyone identify where I was this time from the pic below? Needless to say, if you're one of the guys who I've actually told where I was going, then you can't play!

An amusing and surprising day

I hadn't been to the gay interbank drinks since last November when I went with my friend P. In December I was away on holiday with boyfriend number 2, and then I had other commitments which prevented me from attending in January, so I was looking forward to going along in February :-). But in early February, a colleague asks me to go an a business trip with him.

"GB, I need to visit a client in Geneva, and it would be good if you could join me because I know they'd like to hear your views on their situation :-)."

As soon as he tells me the date I know that it's the interbank drinks in the evening, so I make an alternative suggestion.

"OK, perhaps we should have a conference call with them then, wouldn't it be better to discuss this now rather than later in the month?"

"But they're a very important client, and meetings always go better face to face. And you'll get a good lunch out of it!"

Ahhh well, business has to come first of course. Anyway, since it's just going to be a day trip, I may get back in time to go to the interbank drinks after all.

The day itself turns out to be quite amusing, beginning as soon as I leave my house. A Swedish woman is trying to persuade my pre-booked taxi to take her to Heathrow.

"Sorry, I thought you were MY taxi," I hear her saying as I'm walking up to the cab, "I don't know where my taxi is. If I wait any longer I'll miss my plane."

Since my Geneva flight is flying from Heathrow anyway, I agree to let her share my cab. But as we're approaching Heathrow, I use my PDA's Internet connection to check which terminal her flight is leaving from.

"Err, I think you've got a problem," I tell her, "According to this your flight leaves from London City Airport, not Heathrow!"

London City Airport is East London, Heathrow is West London, so she's stuffed! And she's not able to share the cab fare with me either, because she's got no cash, only a credit card, and this particular cab only takes cash. I've got my own flight to catch of course, so I give the cabbie a bit extra to take her to the Heathrow terminal that's most likely to help her, and say goodbye. What a disaster area she was, no taxi, no cash, and wrong airport anyway!

Once in Switzerland, I need to take a short train journey and a short cab ride to reach the client. But on the train, an old woman starts asking my advice about how to get to the place where she's agreed to meet her son.

"Should I take a taxi, or walk?" she asks. "I'm worried about the one-way roads you see. It might be quicker to walk if the taxi is going to have to go a long way round to get there."

I offer her the map that I'd printed out from multimap.com the previous day, but she declines and continues chatting. She seems mostly harmless, but then I had to get a cab.

The cabbie turns out to be a North African guy who speaks perfect English. He's quite chatty, but as he talks to me, I can't help thinking that he may be a bit unbalanced.

"I like to joke with people," he tells me as we're driving along, "but some people have a bad attitude!"

"For example," he continues, "yesterday there was this fat guy, very fat in fact, so I told him that he looked like a woman who still hadn't had her baby seven weeks after the usual 9 months. I was just joking with him of course, but he wanted to hit me!"

Fancy that mate, I can't imagine why! I decide to give the cabbie a big tip, 'keep him happy' I think to myself, I don't want any trouble.

The lunch and meeting go well, and on my return journey no other members of The General Public come forward to amuse me. The flight lands on time, my pre-booked taxi shows up on time as well, and with no bizarre Swedish women to divert me I decide that there's time to pop in to the interbank drinks after all.

But at the interbank drinks, there's one more surprise in store for me. I'm chatting to cuteCTguy when I spot someone I know on the other side of the room.

"Hey, do you know that guy over there?" I ask him.

"Errr, yes a bit, not very well though, why?"

"Just tell me this, is he gay or straight?"

"I always assumed he was gay," says cuteCTguy, "and this is the gay interbank drinks you know GB!"

Indeed it is. So I guess that clinches it. Even long time readers of this blog will probably have forgotten the mystery of the sexuality of a guy in the gym called S, but as soon as I saw him there at the interbank drinks that was all I could think of. It's nice to tie up loose ends :-)!