Yesterday, Earl and I started showering at the South Shore Racquet Club, since we have no showering facilities in our home at the moment. Afterward, we stopped for donuts at Dale’s, and Earl asked: “How did you like the club?”
Truthfully, it’s just a temporary place to shower.
Granted, there are tennis courts and a swimming pool, a hot tub, tons of equipment, various classes to take, an indoor track, and television sets so that we can exercise without missing a newsbite. And it’s really quite adequate.
But for several years Earl and I belonged to the highest ranking health club in the country. It was more like a country club than a health club, and it had unbelievable amenities.
You could have your car washed and your clothes laundered while you worked out. You could have all the towels you wanted: one to stand on, one to dry off with, one for your hair. They were big and fluffy too. There were three swimming pools, umpteen tennis courts, classes going all day long, a deli for take-out food, two four star restaurants, a daycare center, a spa, a hair salon, a driving range, two indoor tracks, a physical therapy department, and a social calendar.
People who joined the East Bank Club used it for more than a workout. It was their life. They made fast friendships, forged business agreements, and filled their social lives. It was an unusual environment.
And it’s not fair to judge South Shore by these standards. At the same time, as I did my two miles on the track this morning before heading for the showers, I remembered the great times we had at EBC.
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