Not your wife’s health club…

Being an exercise nut, one of the first things I do when I’m out of town for a week or more (and not at a hotel) is hook up with a local gym. Most offer temporary memberships. Right now I’m in Palm springs, California and the gym I found is “Power of Fitness” on Sunrise Boulevard.

Yeah, baby! We’re talking old school California. First off, the place is in a strip mall, next to a liquor store. They keep the front door open for circulation. A bunch of overhead fans do the rest. But it’s still a few degrees too warm. Good for the sweat, dude! For that you have a sea of heavily used workout equipment and a ton of iron. The benches wobble. They use a lot of duct tape. Over the whirring and clanking, one can hear MTV’s “Best of the Eighties,” featuring bands like Pat Benatar, The Pretenders and Guns and Roses. I’m not sure “skeezy” is even a word but it describes the Power of fitness to a “T”. It’s not sleazy. Nobody’s selling steroids in the back. Not quite skuzzy, either. Although they really should replace the moldy tiles in the drop ceiling. Like I said: Skeezy.

And I love it. Honest to God I do. I wanted a normal gym as opposed to a spa or geriatric country club facility. (In Palm Springs, the vast majority of people are old or gay. There are gyms that cater to both. I didn’t want either.) You can’t beat the nasty, friendly vibe of Power of Fitness. Heavily tattooed Mexican gals. Recovering Beach Boy alcoholics. Salty dogs. This is Palm Springs sans golf clubs and popped collars. My wife would hate, hate and hate it. And so would all her friends. The women in here did not just come from the beauty parlor. More like the tattoo parlor.

A more flattering term than skeezy is authentic. We’re all looking for authentic brand experiences, right. And Power of Fitness delivers one.