These are the people in my neighborhood

Song stuck in my head today: Kelis -- Milkshake
(To Shelby, who permanently associated this song with the women's changing room for me -- curse you. May "I Saw the Signs" by Ace of Base get stuck in your head every time you open the fridge.)

Once the staff figures we've had enough reassurance and health warnings to meet Bikram, it's time for introductions. I've seen him at a seminar before, so I have an idea of what to expect.

Many people consider yoga a soothing, zen experience. Bikram is not about that. He says up front: "I sell pain. This is Bikram's torture chamber. You kill yourself for 90 minutes in my class, you live for 90 years!" He favors shiny clothing and expensive cars. He talks straight and is unafraid of profanity. He is also unafraid of what people think of him. "Why should I be humble? Fuck you! Excuse me for living!"

After a welcome speech that is now a blur, we get up and introduce ourselves to the group & Bikram: who we are, where we're from, why we're here. Several people started the yoga to heal injuries or hip/knee/back conditions that were supposed to require surgery. Others took to it to overcome addictions.

Denver, who wears in engineer-striped overall shorts and brought a guitar, announces (only half-flippantly) that he's wife-shopping. A crew-cut woman tells us her hair used to be waist-length, but she shaved her head when she knew she was coming to training. She also says she's working through a lot of emotional stuff and cries in class a lot. Thank god. I'd heard that sooner or later, everyone cries during training. But who wants to be the first? Cheers to her for stepping up and breaking the ice.

At least six people have come from a studio in Paris. Teresa has hip and knee problems from years of dance. She's originally from Prague and drips a pan-European sophisticated sexuality. Fred holds the microphone like a cigarette, between his middle and ring fingers. He says that unlike Craig, being trapped in a changing room with 150 women is not his idea of hell. On the contrary, he would consider it heaven, so he would like to especially say hello to all of the ladies.

There's also a healthy Australian contingent. Susan and Michael are a couple in their 50s, Americans who have lived in Australia for the past 20-30 years. They all have incredible amounts of energy. Maybe it's just the accent.

Andrew, a Welshman from Bangkok, is a little difficult to understand, both in diction and coherence. We're not always sure he gets everything we're saying, either. He was in an (unspecified) accident years ago and suffered extensive brain damage. Doctors once thought he'd be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, so the fact that he's walking, albeit with a limp, is admirable. Still, we're not sure the rest of him made it back.